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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29404440">there are no stars in the future</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/your_tomodachi/pseuds/your_tomodachi'>your_tomodachi</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Haikyuu!!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Eventual Romance, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pining, Saving the World, Slow Burn, Time Travel, the mcd tag is only for chapter 1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 10:16:22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>79,304</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29404440</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/your_tomodachi/pseuds/your_tomodachi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Time Operatives are special agents from the future, tasked with preventing the collapse of society by going back in time to undo the atrocities which led to the end of the world. In order to time travel, they must transfer their consciousness into the body of a host in the 21st century, moments before they are predicted to die.</p><p>When he transfers his consciousness into the body of Akaashi Keiji, the last thing he expects is for someone like Bokuto Koutarou to change everything he’s ever been taught about the world. And about what it really means to live.</p><p>[or; a bokuaka time traveller au except nobody wanted it to be written like this]</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Akaashi Keiji &amp; Kozume Kenma, Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Minor - Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>25</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This fic is based on the TV series called Travelers. If you’ve watched it, you probably have an idea of what this fic is going to be about, and to those who don’t know, I’ll explain it here:</p><p>Travelers is a show where humans in the future discover how to go back in time to prevent the world from ending. They transfer their consciousness into the body of a person in the 21st century before they die (hence the MCD tag), and they have to do missions to prevent the world from ending, whilst living out the lives of their host. That’s all you need to really understand to read this story.</p><p>I’ll be explaining a lot and adding my own take onto the genre as the story progresses. If you see any mistakes or want to give feedback (pls be nice), then I'd love to hear it.</p><p>
  <strong>Additional chapter warnings: Panic attacks (character tries to learn how to deal with anxiety)</strong>
</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span class="u">March 14th; time of death in: 1 hour and 14 minutes</span>
</p><p>The beginning of a headache thrums behind his temple.</p><p>He ignores it, because it isn't really interfering with his day. It's similar to the sensation of waking up from an unplanned nap, limbs sluggish and mind foggy. He got through his classes, and played volleyball, just fine. Bokuto asked to stay for extra practice today, and Akaashi agreed. He hasn’t been able to tell him no ever since Bokuto perfected the kicked-puppy pout. Even though assignments are waiting for him, and there’s a test to study for, Akaashi doesn't want to say no anyway.</p><p>Bokuto is impatient and eager to practice his new spike technique with Akaashi. His excitement could fool anyone into believing he didn't just finish two hours of practice. Not to mention the three-hour classes before that.</p><p>Akaashi tosses the ball, then another, and another one again. He’s enthralled by the way Bokuto spikes it over the net. It reminds him of Icarus reaching for the sun. But when Bokuto falls to the ground, he lands on his feet. When his smile is so radiant, Akaashi wonders if Bokuto should be compared to the sun instead. And Akaashi is Icarus, desperate to feel its glow on his skin but he’s falling, falling, falling.</p><p>“That one was great! Did you see it, Akaashi? It went so fast!” Bokuto is vibrating on the spot, unable to suppress the excitement coursing through his veins. Akaashi smiles.</p><p>“Yes, I saw it, Bokuto-san, it was a great spike.” He picks up another ball. Bokuto's shoes squeak on the court, and Akaashi tosses right as he sets flight. And they do it again, and again. By now, it's muscle memory.</p><p>The sun has long set by the time they finish. Akaashi always loses track of time when he practices one-on-one with Bokuto. The desire to stay in Bokuto's presence overshadows everything else he needs to do.</p><p>He wants to stay by Bokuto's side, even just for a little bit longer.</p><p>They collect all the balls on the other side of the court, throwing them back into the cart. Bokuto is humming a song under his breath. Akaashi is trying to massage away the ache around his left eye.</p><p>“You’re a talented volleyball player, Bokuto-san.” The words slip out before he can think, amplified in the gym's silence. “I don’t doubt that you’ll be the top player one day.”</p><p>He doesn’t quite know where the sudden urge to compliment his friend came from. Akaashi has never been one for praise, always afraid of sounding awkward when giving a flattering remark to his teammates. Or he always worried that his good intentions would be misinterpreted as something else, whether it be flirting, or passive aggressive praise.</p><p>But today feels different. Today, the words leaving his lips sound genuine. They're coming from his heart, and he makes sure that Bokuto hears it in his voice.</p><p>The volleyballs in Bokuto's arms slip from his grip and bounce on the floor. He stares at Akaashi with his mouth agape in shock, and his cheeks turn red. Akaashi is so transfixed by the reaction that he nearly misses what Bokuto says.</p><p>“Wh-what’s this, Akasahi?” He blinks owlishly, as if in disbelief of what he’s witnessed. “You’re… you’re being very un-Akaashi today. Are you okay?”</p><p>Akaashi rushes into the equipment room to store away the volleyball net. He bites his lip to stop himself from smiling. “Nothing’s wrong, I just wanted tell you that.”</p><p>Something tells him that he will regret it if he doesn’t.</p><p>The court is tidied, the floors are cleaned, and Akaashi is locking the gymnasium for the night. Bokuto hovers behind him, fishing for the jacket he stuffed somewhere inside his bag. The evening chill leaves them both shuddering, tugging up the collars of their coats. Akaashi always hated the winter, and the fact that spring is late this year is not helping him feel less gloomy about it.</p><p>They step out of campus, bowing goodbye to the security guard as he closes the gates up for the evening. The awkward tension created by Akaashi's sudden compliments seem to have been left behind. Bokuto is speed-talking like usual beside him. Something about the convenience store by the dorms selling sweet potatoes for cheap. Today, Akaashi can't get himself engaged in the conversation like usual.</p><p>But he can’t look away from Bokuto either. Something in his chest is urging him to etch all of Bokuto’s features into his mind. The way Bokuto’s eyes shine gold when they pass the overhead lights. The gentle slope of his nose, the way it starts to turn red in the cold. Bokuto’s lips, curling into a smile, leave Akaashi to wonder if they feel as soft as they seem. Bokuto’s broad shoulders, hidden beneath an oversized jacket. His hands, calloused from volleyball, yet still so gentle whenever they grip Akaashi’s arm or pat his back.</p><p>There has always been something about Bokuto's presence that Akaashi could never explain in words. Bokuto glows with energy every single day. He's talkative and excitable, as much as he can be moody and sour. But Bokuto's aura is always glowing, dazzling and glamourous. He attracts everyone towards him. He has people doing a double-take whenever they leave a room and realise how loveable they found his personality to be.</p><p>Bokuto is the brightest star in a galaxy full of others, but one where everyone wants to reach him and see if his glow is as warm as a sun.</p><p>Five minutes away from the campus, there’s a little park Akaashi has grown to love. It’s where Akaashi and Bokuto meet every morning, and where they part every evening. It's the perfect middle ground to see each other. The night obscures the sakura trees within. Their petals still flutter in the shine of streetlights when wind pulls them from the branches.</p><p>“I’ll see you tomorrow?” Bokuto asks every day, and every day the answer is the same.</p><p>“Of course.” Akaashi says, with a too-quick tilt of his lips. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Bokuto-san.”</p><p>Bokuto ambles backwards, waving his arms with exaggerated swings, and Akaashi muffles his laughter in his gloves. Bokuto doesn’t turn away until it’s too dark to see him. Akaashi’s chest tightens with longing, a desperate need to return to Bokuto’s side. The urge is so strong, Akaashi grips onto his arms so he won’t run after the other.</p><p>His headache has yet to get better. A chill runs through his body, even though the wind calmed down. Something cold and lonely settles on him instead. <em>You won’t get to see Bokuto for a very long time</em>, it says. Like the emptiness of being alone over the summer break. When his friends were gone abroad, and his façade was cracking to reveal the fatigue in his soul. He wants to swat them away, but they weigh on his back down, until he can do nothing but hope that those dark thoughts are wrong.</p><p>There are no stars in the city. Even on a clear night, the streets are too bright, the car lights blinding. Akaashi strolls through the park, as usual, to reach the other side. A fifteen-minute walk away is the housing estate he lives in. It isn’t anything impressive, old multi-storey apartment blocks stood beside newly-developed ones. They’re pitiful in comparison, but for now, it's home. Here, the streets are much emptier, like he entered another universe, where he can be alone in thought.</p><p>His head is full of static.</p><p>The pedestrian light flashes red before he can rush across the road. No car is in sight, and his ears ring with the silence of the world, jarring his senses from the sudden change. He can no longer hear the noise of the city behind him, the wind howling in his ears, or his own erratic breaths. Only silence.</p><p>The fuzzy static in his head transforms into something sharper, a painful claw at his brain. Akaashi suffered through plenty of headaches before, but none of them were like this. None of them were like a knife tearing into his skull. He massages his forehead again, hoping it will ease the pain, but it doesn't. Something is wrong.</p><p>The pedestrian light turns green but Akaashi can’t move his legs. Everything beneath his skin burns hot and cold, like boiling water being doused with shards of ice. The pain is enough to blind his vision, until white dots dance in his line of sight. Akaashi clutches his head in his hands, collapsing to the ground. It <em>hurts</em>.</p><p>There is no explanation to help him understand what's going on, but somehow, Akaashi already knows what will happen. This isn't a headache. This isn't a brain injury. He can feel it. Akaashi can feel that he is going to die.</p><p>A hand extends towards him, familiar with calluses, but Akaashi refuses to take it. He doesn't want to die. He tries to blink the white spots from his vision. There's so much he still wants to do in the world. He doesn’t want to die. A glimpse of a car comes into sight, speeding past him, with no care for the light blinking green for Akaashi to cross. He wants to call out for help, but everything has been swallowed up by a world of white and gold.</p><p>He doesn't want to die. Not like this.</p><p>His throat is closed up, so Akaashi can’t scream. His lungs refuse to take in the air, so Akaashi can’t breathe. Loud music blasts out of the car that passed him, but he can’t hear it. His vision is nothing but a sea of infinite white and gold, and a familiar hand that doesn't belong to anyone he knows.</p><p>And then, it all disappears.</p><p>The pedestrian light turns red.</p><p>
  <span class="u">March 14th; time of death: 19:27</span>
</p><p>After a torrid heatwave comes a wave of cooled temperatures, like a balm to soothe burned skin.</p><p>
  <em>Fucking ow.</em>
</p><p>It is merely the aftermath of what was an indescribable headache tearing through his skull, but it still hurts. The chilling wind helps the pain to subside little by little. The air, foggy with fumes, is fresh and bitter cold - precious and hated. A breeze ebbs away the last splinters of bone and ash in his vision, and he can finally open his eyes.</p><p>He looks up and the world is alive.</p><p>With a deep inhalation, smog and oxygen enter his lungs, clearing the final aches in his temple. He rises to his feet and crosses the street when the light turns green. Five hundred meters and then to the left, stands the oldest block of apartments in the estate, the one he lives in. In the near future, an announcement will be slipped into residents' post-boxes, informing everybody that the district plans to demolish the apartments soon, replacing them with newer homes instead. He'll have to find a better place to live soon.</p><p>Number 504 in Block C is a quiet home. The lights are practically always off, and it is sole occupant is a student from the nearby university. Inside is cold and dark. Mould is festering in ceiling corners, and the doors don't quite slide closed anymore. The genkan has a small selection of shoes placed in a neat line.</p><p>He has a strange craving for sweet potatoes today, despite never having liked them before. But he pushes the hunger pangs aside for now. The priority at this instant is finding a laptop. There must be one in the bedroom. When he turns it on, it whirs to life on its final breaths.</p><p><em>Probably needs an upgraded processor – or maybe it’d be better to just buy a new laptop</em>. This one is almost out of disk space too. <em>The 21<sup>st</sup> century is very frugal with their hard drives.</em></p><p>The Internet connection is abysmal too, leaving him to wait twenty minutes to access the dark web. At last, it loads. The site is swimming in code and text that isn't supposed to have any hidden meaning. With haste, he types a ciphered message, sends it out, and leaves to find some food.</p><p>When deciphered, the message reads:</p><p>
  <strong>[ACCESSED – Time Operative 4028]</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>[Host: Akaashi Keiji; Time of Death: March 14th, 19:27]</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>[Consciousness Transfer – COMPLETE]</strong>
</p><p>--</p><p>Akaashi Keiji was just another unfortunate victim caught up in an unfortunate accident. He was predicted to die after a car ran into him on his way home from university. His funeral was supposed to be a quiet event, attended by relatives who didn’t really know him. His parents were not going to attend the funeral. They prioritised work above everything else, even their own son’s funeral.</p><p>That future won’t happen anymore.</p><p>The real Akaashi Keiji is dead, and his body is now a valuable host. Time Operative 4028 transferred his consciousness into the body of Akaashi Keiji – coming from a future many, many years away. A future where humanity has been all but wiped out.</p><p>The world is dying, and there is no other way to save it, except by going back in time.</p><p>With no other solution to save it, time travel became their single salvation. A rather recent discovery – at least when talking about it in relation to his timeline – and along with its invention came the establishment of the Time Traveller Taskforce of Special Operatives, capable of saving humanity from its own demise.</p><p>Thousands of operatives are working in secret in the 21<sup>st</sup> century to undo the errors of their ascendants.</p><p>Time travel isn’t like the novels and films describe. There isn’t a big machine sending humans back to the past, and nobody ends up stuck in a different century by mistake. To time travel, special agents transfer their consciousness into the body of an individual in the 21<sup>st</sup> century. Using the consciousness transfer method, they override the mind of their host moments before their predicted death – and thus, successfully travelling back in time.</p><p>It is the only method that exists without disrupting the course of nature. They have no other way to save the future anymore. To override the mind of a person already predicted to die offers the lowest risk of complications to the timeline. There’s enough ethical issue discourse among the Faction Councilmen as it is. Adding timeline tamper on the list will just guarantee they’ll fight about it until the remainder of humanity creeps to extinction.</p><p>The Taskforce was developed for the sake of humanity’s survival. Their sole purpose is to set the optimum course to a better future. It is all for the sake of saving innocent lives who don't deserve to suffer for the sins of their ancestors.</p><p>If it means that somebody’s death – already predicted to happen – can bring them closer to that future, then so be it.</p><p>Let the Faction Councilmen whine about it until they croak. The one’s doing the real work are the agents in the 21<sup>st</sup>, reshaping the timeline to save them, even if it comes at the cost of their own lives.</p><p>He trained his entire life for the mission. Memorising history, delving into butterfly issues, learning important names, regimes, wars, protocol, sciences – everything. It’s been sewn into his brain from the moment his long-term memory began to develop. His greatest weapon is his own mind.</p><p>Under dingy lights, he stares at him in the bathroom mirror – at Akaashi Keiji. His black hair is tousled, and his eyes are an interesting shade of viridian green, bordering close to aquamarine blue. It's clear from the dark circles underneath that Akaashi doesn't get much sleep. He’s pale, a result of constant hours indoors, and the mild insomnia that seeps the glow from his skin. But otherwise, Akaashi Keiji is as healthy as any average university student. He has strong legs from running, which is useful, and he’s also a volleyball player, which is even better. Akaashi's stamina will be able to handle strenuous missions.</p><p>He couldn’t have hoped for a better host.</p><p><em>As a Time Operative, you will take on the name of your host when the time comes</em>. That’s what the Taskforce instructors used to say. <em>There is no value in giving a name to you</em>, they told him, <em>in the end, you will take on another life</em>.</p><p>He was never called anything except his identification number.</p><p>“Akaashi.” He tests the name on his tongue. It tastes like a foreign language. “Akaashi Keiji.”</p><p>It’s his now.</p><p>The Director’s orders that every Time Operative to lead the life of their host without raising suspicion of their real identity. They must obey every order they're given, and never jeopardise the mission. They're expected to prevent major events from happening, and halt everything that leads to the end of the world. And all of that must be done in secret. Disobeying or violating any of the rules is... the end, essentially.</p><p>From now on, he will be Akaashi Keiji, a second-year university student. He studies medicine, and he’s one of the smartest students in his year. He wants to graduate and go to medical school. Akaashi is also part of the volleyball club, playing a regular role as the team’s setter – not to mention acting as vice-captain too.</p><p>Volleyball is the one thing that might be a pain to emulate for him.</p><p>Agents don’t learn who their host will be until a few weeks – or sometimes a few minutes – before their travel. His training regimen never included volleyball practice. Sports wasn’t a common pastime in the future to begin with. He was able to teach himself the basics of the sport. But he will have to adapt and fake his skills in the meantime, whilst understanding the dynamics of the sport, and his team.</p><p>It is his new life now.</p><p>The next morning, he wakes up to the sound of an alarm on Akaashi’s phone, reminding him to go to morning practice. The sun has yet to rise, but he finds a volleyball tracksuit, and gets ready to leave early. The first thing to do is scope out the surrounding area, although there isn’t much aside from old apartments. A small convenience shop is not too far, with a morning market nearby preparing to open, and a train station a few minutes away. Commuting on foot to university takes about twenty minutes. Near the campus, a park separates it from the student dormitories.</p><p>Sakura season is in full bloom, and a spring of pink and white blossoms bursts through the park. He’s never seen them outside of e-textbooks.</p><p>The air is fresh, making goosebumps rise all along his arms. It isn’t warm by any means, but it’s pleasant, carrying the scent of something sweet. He quickly learns that it’s the scent of flowers. They are much lovelier in real life too.</p><p>Instructors taught him everything about the not-yet-dead world which existed. He knows roses have thorns to protect them, nettles sting when you touch them, and poppies have both edible seeds and opium pods inside. But nobody told him how flowers will feel waxy against his fingers, how leaves will tickle the back of his hands, or how sweet the flowers will smell.</p><p>How can they talk about something they’ve never seen before?</p><p>“Akaashi, there you are!” An unfamiliar voice calls his host's name. Immediately, something tugs at him, just beneath his skin. A bone-deep pull towards that unfamiliar voice.</p><p>Tearing his gaze away from the lotus leaves in the lake, he’s greeted by the sight of a stranger jogging towards him. The person is a little familiar, with strange-coloured hair, and honey-gold eyes. That broad smile sparks recognition in his memory - but the heart in his ribcage twists. It's an instinctual pull - perhaps the last remainder of his host's ingrained need to be close to a familiar face.</p><p>As a child, he learned about organic matter. Matter is what makes up all that humans are, and it is also what makes up those things called stars in the sky. From these facts, stories circled the Factions.</p><p>In a nonbelieving society, it was said that the soul was created in a furnace of now-long-dead stars. People spoke of about cosmic connections, and how soulmates came to be through them. It was believed that soulmates were the stars created in the same furnace. They believed it was the reason why you're drawn to certain people in life.</p><p>In the future, society was separated into Factions and protected by metal walls. It wasn't home, but it was the one place they could survive. So when people stared at a ceiling that covered the sky, they said you were searching for your soulmate. It was why people believed homesickness was no longer tied to a place.</p><p>There are no stars in the future. The galaxy so highly spoken of hid behind ash clouds and red skies. Some people didn't believe a tale so otherworldly could exist in their universe.</p><p>He doesn't believe it either.</p><p>And yet, here he is, standing in the 21<sup>st</sup> century and wondering if he's seeing a star for the first time in his life today.</p><p>Bokuto Koutarou is the name of this star-like person, his mind supplies. A third-year in the same university as Akaashi Keiji, the captain and ace of the volleyball team, and Akaashi’s closest friend. He recalls skimming through Bokuto’s files when he studied Akaashi’s relationships.</p><p>Through poorly-rendered images and blurry videos, it was difficult to make out much. In the flesh, he faces a physique that should tower over him. Bokuto's body is muscle and power, hidden beneath an oversized jacket and radiant grin. His aura is made of warmth, like the first touch of sunlight melting morning frost. The first glimpse of light after months of darkness.</p><p>No medium could have captured the sensation of being in Bokuto Koutarou's presence.</p><p>All of a sudden, he’s no longer sure how to deal with being around someone like him. Someone who makes you feel important simply because he chooses to smile at you.</p><p>“Good morning, Bokuto-san.” He says, offering a slight bow, because he isn’t sure what else to say when it feels like all the air has escaped his lungs.</p><p>The rumbling of car engines is a constant wherever you go in Tokyo. The city should be buzzing with morning. But he can’t hear any of it. When Bokuto directs a dazzling smile at him, the only sound in his ear is the humming rush of blood.</p><p>“What’s with the formalities?” Bokuto raises a brow. “I thought we’d gotten past the bowing thing by now.”</p><p><em>Shit</em>. “It’s nothing.” He walks ahead, and Bokuto catches up without missing a beat. “I just didn’t get much sleep last night, is all. I’m a bit off today.”</p><p>It is expected for every Time Operative to research their host before transferring their consciousness, when they can. That includes learning about their host's relationship with the individuals around them. He read countless messages, scrolled on social media accounts, watched old videos. He examined the details surrounding Akaashi Keiji's parents. He figured out which classmates to avoid, and how the volleyball club was more like a family to Akaashi than a group of teammates.</p><p>He was prepared to handle them all.</p><p>All expect one.</p><p>Bokuto Koutarou is Akaashi Keiji’s upperclassman, his senpai. But Bokuto is also Akaashi’s friend. The intricacies of 21<sup>st</sup> century social hierarchies differ to the ones in the future but he knows the basics of them. And still, he knows the dynamic between Akaashi and Bokuto is different. Bokuto Koutarou is special.</p><p>That’s where the issue lies.</p><p>“Really, are you okay?” Bokuto stops them, leaning close to inspect Akaashi’s condition. The proximity makes something catch in Akaashi's throat, a momentary hitch in breath. In broad daylight, Bokuto’s eyes are bright with worry, golden like a sun rising over a burning sky. “You’re not sick, are you?” Bokuto’s voice is low and soft. Attentive, kind, and a bleeding-heart nature – that’s who Bokuto Koutarou is.</p><p>All of it is as evident as the clarity of the sky in the not-yet-dead world. It’s as loud as the cars around them, as constant as the permanent hum of noise in a city.</p><p>Bokuto Koutarou is hopelessly in love with Akaashi Keiji.</p><p>He read the text messages, he flicked through photos, and inspected shaky videos recorded on smartphones. In recordings of volleyball matches, he remembers watching the moment when they won. Akaashi was the first person Bokuto turned to, and Bokuto was the first person Akaashi ran to. Bokuto engulfed Akaashi into his arms, sweeping him off his feet. Every match they won, it was the same.</p><p>Now, when Bokuto presses a hand to his temple, the tenderness in his touch is enough to make hair rise on the back of his neck. Bokuto brushes a curl from his forehead, careful as if grasping delicate glass. Something inside his host’s body is running rampant, fluttery and uncomfortable. He remembers reading something about it before; something about butterflies in your stomach.</p><p>Bokuto’s eyes can’t hide anything, a multitude of emotions, pleading for Akaashi to stay by his side. That yearning has been stitched into his love language, his behaviour. His grin softens when their eyes meet, a golden universe and an aurora of faded blue-green. A glimpse of the galaxy.</p><p>In the future, love was a nuisance. It was unnecessary, treated like a flaw – nobody had the luxury of something like that in a world left to perish. It reached a point where nobody understood what love was anymore.</p><p>When he was younger, he read about love. On the torn pages of yellow-stained books. On stories that lost their name long ago. In secret he used to sneak into the forgotten archives that held the foxing pages of the not-yet-dead world. There, he traced the smudged text with his fingers, like it would help him experience the phenomena called love. It said that love was like flying in the heavens.  Something so beautiful yet so terrifying. The imagery of fluttery butterflies in one’s stomach disturbed him. The dizziness from being in proximity to a beloved was strange, because he only ever associated light-headedness with sickness or hunger.</p><p>He was never able to construct a proper idea of how it must be like to fall in love.</p><p>He's pretty sure he's looking at it right now.</p><p>It’s invasive, to observe this like an outsider. This isn’t meant for him. He moves away from the touch, tremoring from the peculiar cold that replaces Bokuto’s fingers on his forehead.</p><p>Bokuto is gazing at <em>Akaashi Keiji</em> right now, his friend, his teammate. The person he has been pining over for two years. Bokuto isn’t looking at him.</p><p>“I’m not sick, Bokuto-san.” There’s a strange quiver in his voice when he speaks. “I was just studying, and lost track of time, is all.”</p><p>“Oh, right, for the summer course.” Bokuto isn’t deterred by the subtle rejection (maybe he hadn’t realised that was Akaashi's intention). “You said there’s an entrance assessment you need to do before getting accepted.”</p><p>“Yes, my professors recommended this course for me, but the entry requirements are quite strict.” Akaashi had been studying to get into a specialised summer course for medical students. “It focuses on surgical training for university students. They expect us to know at least the basics of that before attending the course.”</p><p>“You’re so smart, Akaashi, I still can’t believe how you’re able to understand all that stuff.” Bokuto bumps his elbow. “You’re hardworking, but that doesn’t mean you can get away with not taking care of yourself – you need to rest too.”</p><p>Bokuto is so obvious.</p><p>For a brief moment, he plays with the notion of whether Akaashi Keiji knew about it all before his death. Maybe Akaashi returned those feelings to some extent too. There is no denying Bokuto's pining has been going on for a long time, and yet nothing ever happened between them.</p><p>Reaching the university entrance, it's still too early for campus to be open to the public. They scan their student ID cards to open the gates, bowing the security guard when they pass his booth. As they make their way to the gym, Bokuto asks if he wants to eat ramen after evening practice today.</p><p>“I mean, it’s just, we haven’t gone in a while now – because of assignments and all that,” Bokuto rubs the back of his neck, blush high on his cheeks, “but we have more time now, so how about we go there together, just… just the two of us?”</p><p>It’s just past seven thirty, but plenty of students are already present on campus, trudging to the library or to morning club activities. The quiet murmur of conversation drowns out Akaashi's sigh of resignation.</p><p>“Sure, we can go this evening.” There’s not much of a choice in this situation. “It’s been a while since we last went.”</p><p>He beams, and Akaashi forces himself to smile.</p><p>Whether Bokuto musters up the courage to confess or not, none of it matters anymore. There can never be anything between Akaashi and Bokuto. Not anymore. Akaashi Keiji is gone, and he is never coming back.</p><p>Taskforce Protocol states that Time Operatives are forbidden from pursuing romantic and sexual relationships with individuals from the 21<sup>st</sup> century, as well as reproducing offspring. The sole exception is for those who have already established relationships prior to the host’s death. So even if he was interested in returning Bokuto’s adoration (which he<em> isn’t</em>), Protocol 4 stands in the way of that.</p><p>Rules aside, now that he’s here, it will, no doubt, be a pain in the ass to deal with Bokuto Koutarou’s crush on Akaashi Keiji.</p><p>--</p><p>Through morning practice, Bokuto pretends like he isn’t looking at Akaashi any time they go off the court. He calls Akaashi’s name for a toss louder than anyone else’s. He cheers loudly after every score, and seeks Akaashi out for the first high-five he gives.</p><p>He can’t deny Bokuto’s spikes aren’t mesmerising. It’s like a pair of wings sprout from his back, carrying him into the air. He’s flying into the stream of sun, shining as if he is the only one on the court.</p><p>He had no interest to check out Akaashi’s friends and their lives beyond their relation to him. Now, he almost wishes he did, just to confirm that Bokuto becomes a professional volleyball player in the future. There's no possible way he is meant to be anything else.</p><p>When practice finishes, Bokuto waits for him to walk to Akaashi’s first class together. He ardently anticipates for Akaashi's praise, which he takes note of, despite how awkward it is to compliment someone. As long as it keeps Bokuto’s mood up, as long as it makes him smile, then momentary discomfort is a small price to pay.</p><p>“Hey, Akaashi,” Bokuto pipes up before he can enter morning labs, “are you sure you’re alright? You’re acting kind of strange today.”</p><p>The bell rings for at nine o’clock.</p><p>“Of course, I’m alright.” Lying comes easy when you don’t know the person standing before you. But something shifts in Bokuto's expression, like he can see right through Akaashi’s lies. “Like I said earlier, I’m just tired.”</p><p>“It’s just that…” Bokuto hesitates, gazing at his shoes, “your tosses, they didn’t feel the same today.”</p><p>
  <em>So under all that boundless energy, Bokuto's perception is sharp.</em>
</p><p>“Sorry, I’ll do better next time.” He says.</p><p>Bokuto opens his mouth to protest, but before he can, the professor slips out of the equipment room in the lab, urging her students to take their seats. Akaashi steps into the classroom. “You should go. Don’t be late for your class, Bokuto-san.”</p><p>The last thing he sees is Bokuto's shoulders slump in dejection, before the professor calls Akaashi into class, and the door slides shut.</p><p>--</p><p>Bokuto and Akaashi’s schedules clash today, so he spends lunch alone, taking Akaashi’s phone apart. He needs to replace components with processing pieces from the future. Modem chips to create fake coordinates, communication apps to contact other agents – anything that will lessen the risk of getting caught, the Director always says. Hacking into their hosts' smartphones to hide their very illegal activity is the first thing they need to do.</p><p>After his last class finishes, there is still time before evening practice, so he goes to the library. Not long after, Bokuto joins him. They study together – or rather, Akaashi studies. Bokuto skims through his textbook, distracted by every little movement or noise. He taps on his phone, or plays with the loose thread fraying out of Akaashi's shirt sleeve. This in turn, distracts Akaashi from his work too. Bokuto’s ploy to disturb Akaashi appears to be a frequent occurrence, if glaring isn’t enough to deter him from doing it.</p><p>Bokuto muffles his giggles behind his palm. Akaashi observes the way his laughter doesn’t quite reach his eyes. The air between them is not like it was in the morning, before Bokuto recognised that something was off with Akaashi. It will not be easy to keep his cover around Bokuto, if this continues. Bokuto is perceptive when it comes to Akaashi Keiji.</p><p>He tends to Akaashi like he’s desperate to see his smile. He helps pack heavy textbooks back into Akaashi's bag, carrying it for him on the way to the gym. To the Time Operative with no understanding of love, Bokuto's own resembles deep-seated loyalty than anything. The willingness to do anything for a person who's no longer here. It's scary. To think that Akaashi Keiji had the power to make Bokuto do anything if he said the word. It's frightening to know he holds that power now.</p><p>Or maybe, in its own messed-up way, this love can be sweet too. It doesn't matter to Bokuto if they're friends, or lovers. He doesn't care whether they are something less, or something in between. He just wants to care for Akaashi Keiji as long as he allows him to.</p><p>It's hard to put into words what it is that happens to him when Bokuto's affections are directed towards him. When he stands close and their pinky fingers almost touch. When he takes care of Akaashi in the smallest of ways, giving him his towel after practice and offering to refill his water bottle when it's empty. The little gestures translate into Bokuto's love language. Whether his crush remains unrequited or not, he will do it all to communicate his love for a friend (for a boy who didn’t have enough time left in this world to figure out it was something more).</p><p>Akaashi Keiji had been lucky to have someone like Bokuto by his side.</p><p>After stretching to finish off the day’s practice and changing into puffy coats and boots, Bokuto leads him into the city to eat ramen. Nobody questioned Akaashi's volleyball plays today. Even if it wasn’t up to his usual standard, it could be passed off as his supposed exhaustion. Bokuto was the only one who frowned after spiking his tosses, but he kept any comments about it to himself.</p><p>Commuting during the rush hour is hectic in a way he never experienced before. Bokuto is clearly accustomed to it, gushing non-stop about something or other the entire journey. They squish like tinned fish onto the train, legs tangling together. The closer the train gets to the city, the more people disembark, and then another dozen take their spot. It reminds him of moving day in the future. When one Faction was no longer able to support its population, the people were squished onto pods and sent off to other Factions. The pods were similar to trains, overcrowded and uncomfortable. Dark and suffocating.</p><p>There were only ever a few pods available. They only arrived once, and didn’t come back. Sometimes, not everyone was able to get on.</p><p>Perhaps the aversion to overcrowded spaces is one he shares with his host, because it is as if Bokuto knows Akaashi is uncomfortable, pulling him impossibly closer until the only thing in Akaashi’s line of vision is Bokuto’s neck. The action is shocking and unexpected enough to make Akaashi’s thoughts screech to a halt. He stops thinking about the future in the past, about the overcrowded commute, and begins wondering why it is that Bokuto’s clothes smell so pleasant. The fresh scent of detergent, with the cool sharpness of salonpas. And something else inherently Bokuto. It’s nice.</p><p>His host’s body subconsciously relaxes.</p><p>They reach their stop and Bokuto slips his hand into Akaashi’s as they skirt through the crowds and escape the underground station. Outside, he can breathe again.</p><p>The ramen shop is not far away. Bokuto and Akaashi frequent the shop enough for the owner to recognise them. When she quirks her lips at their intertwined hands, Akaashi untangles his fingers from Bokuto's, avoiding eye contact with the owner as she makes small talk with Bokuto.</p><p>The shop is small, not yet filled by salary workers out of the office. Heat from the kitchen warms their winter-chilled hands. The owner is elated to see them again, promising to add a full boiled egg to their bowls. She doesn't have to ask for their orders before disappearing behind the noren curtains, knowing them by heart at this point.</p><p>“This is nice.” Bokuto says when they find themselves a table to sit. “I’ve missed hanging out with you.”</p><p>He needs to remind himself that Bokuto is referring to Akaashi Keiji, not him. “We see each other every day, Bokuto-san.”</p><p>A range of fragrances wafting through the shop grabs his attention; the scent of miso broth and cooking pork seeping into his clothes. It’s nothing like what was in the future – but then again, they didn’t have a vast array of food to choose from (the first time he learned that people in the 21<sup>st</sup> consumed meat on the daily, he had to sit down in shock).</p><p>“You know what I mean,” Bokuto pouts, poking at the metal chopsticks inside the bamboo cup on their table, “I missed hanging out with you like <em>this</em> – outside of university and volleyball. Just the two of us.”</p><p>There’s that strange flutter in Akaashi’s stomach again. He tries to reassure himself that it’s a fluttering pang of hunger. “Yes, this is… it’s nice.” The heat from the kitchen is making his face turn warm. “When we’ve got time, we should hang out more often.”</p><p>The spark of excitement is not what he wanted to elicit from Bokuto. He isn’t trying to get Bokuto’s hopes up or lead him on – he wants the exact opposite of that. But he also doesn’t want to mess up whatever relationship Bokuto has with Akaashi.</p><p>The owner is quick to return with their food. It looks delicious, but daunting. It turns out, Akaashi’s regular order is tantanmen, a spicy kind of ramen dish. The miso paste is orange from the chili oil and doubanjiang, with lots of meat, bok choy, and beansprouts on top of the ramen noodles. A full boiled egg sits at the side of the bowl, chopped in half, like the owner promised.</p><p>He never tried anything spicy before.</p><p>The first bite is rich with flavour, sour but sweet enough to not be too acidic, and more flavourful than anything he ever ate in his life. Growing up on soy-based proteins and vegetables grown in biochemical greenhouses doesn’t give him a lot of competence in the field of luxurious cuisine.</p><p>But the spice…</p><p>It numbs his tongue and pricks at the back of his throat, enough to make him cough.</p><p>Bokuto stares at him with a mouthful of enoki mushrooms - <em>gross</em> - and offers a tissue. “Don’t choke.”</p><p>“Thanks for the hep.” He manages a sardonic reply in spite of the burn in his oesophagus and the sting of tears. Damn, Akaashi liked his food <em>really</em> spicy.</p><p>“I always tell you that you get it too spicy.” Bokuto chides with a tone of strictness unexpected from someone as childish as him. “I know you enjoy it, but sometimes, you need to eat something that’s more gentle on your palette.”</p><p>“Spicy food releases endorphins and reduces stress.” He quotes from memory. “With all the work that's been piling up recently, I definitely need a stress reliever. And it’s fine, I just had too much at once.”</p><p>Bokuto laughs at his comment, thankfully covering his mouth. It’s the most genuine reaction he has managed to get out of Bokuto throughout the entire day.</p><p>“You can eat mine instead.” Bokuto points to his tonkotsu ramen. “If you’re not in the mood for tantanmen, I don’t mind swapping.”</p><p>He offers it up like it’s the simplest thing in the world. Akaashi isn’t sure why, but the gesture hits him with more force than the punch of spice in the back of his throat. He shakes his head (despite wanting to accept the offer). “You don’t have to, Bokuto-san, I want to eat it. Please enjoy the food you’ve gotten for yourself.”</p><p>“Okay, but if you change your mind, I’ll give you mine.” He is going to suck it up and stick with Akaashi’s choices, so he won’t.</p><p><em>It’s unsettling, </em>he thinks.</p><p>“Also – let’s buy some ice-cream after this, it’ll help settle the spiciness in your stomach.” Bokuto is radiant and glorious in a tiny little ramen shop. He has a cute smile.</p><p>
  <em>It’s unsettling to be on the receiving end of a love that’s meant for someone else.</em>
</p><p>He doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to it.</p><p>“Also, I’m paying for today.”</p><p>“No, you are not, Bokuto-san. I should be the one to pay.”</p><p>“I don’t accept that! We’ll fight for it.”</p><p>They settle the dispute with a riveting game of rock-paper-scissors. His scissors get annihilated by Bokuto’s rock. A tragic defeat.</p><p>--</p><p>Masquerading as Akaashi Keiji becomes easier the more time passes. It’s similar to returning to training after missing a week due to illness. At first, it's overwhelming to attempt to catch up with the new regimen, gathering the pieces and putting them together like a puzzle. Even if some of the pieces are missing, he can still get by as Akaashi Keiji.</p><p>With time, volleyball gets easier too. The others in the team don't have any problem with his plays - they actually prefer them. They say Akaashi has become more vigilant and observant on the court. His sharp eyes never miss when a teammate is overwhelmed by the pressure of their opponents. His tactical approach to his sets, and the surprise setter dumps he plays when everyone least expects it. Akaashi calculates every single set, so it will reach his teammates right where they need the ball.</p><p>Konoha always smacks him on the back after a successful and freakish spike, and Washio is always impressed when he dumps the ball right over the net without announcing it.</p><p>“It's as annoying as it is amazing.” They would comment.</p><p>Akaashi has improved his game these days, they would praise him. He's super analytical now, and he can see whenever someone is tired from an intense game, or slacking off. Even Coach commended Akaashi's plays, bewildered by how much he's refined his skills as of late.</p><p>“Even Bokuto’s spikes have gotten better!” Konoha says, peering over at their captain. “I’m amazed every time I see it. No one can block his spikes anymore.”</p><p>Bokuto puts on an artificial smile so nobody catches the wariness on his face.</p><p>But Akaashi notices, and it makes his brow twitch in frustration. No matter what he does, how he changes his approach, his angle – Bokuto always frowns, mumbling that something is off with Akaashi’s tosses.</p><p><em>They don’t feel like Akaashi’s tosses anymore</em>. Not to Bokuto, at least.</p><p>Instructors trained him to become like his host before he even knew it would be Akaashi Keiji. How to mimic accents and dialects, how to imitate their gestures, pick up their hobbies and understand their skills. He can replicate Akaashi's habits, copy his skills, but he can never <em>be</em> Akaashi Keiji. There will always be something he cannot emulate.</p><p>To have Bokuto point out every fault becomes the constant reminder telling him he’s failing as the person he needs to be. When he can't set a toss the way Bokuto wants, he catches the voices in the back of his head telling him he's failing at his mission.</p><p>But that's not something he can fix. After all, he's just living someone else's like.</p><p>Taskforce missions offer him an escape out of his mind crammed with worries of volleyball (or to be precise, Bokuto). The Director has begun sending him on butterfly missions during the night.</p><p>Named after the 'butterfly effect', butterfly missions are tasks involving seemingly small events that eventually lead to major consequences. They can involve saving a child when it is uncovered that they had the potential to discover a cure for a future disease. It can include assassinating a corrupt politician leading a country towards catastrophe.</p><p>During the night, he doesn’t have to be Akaashi Keiji anymore. He’s just another Time Operative, without a name. He's a Strategist, with the skill to plan and achieve an optimum course towards a better future. Second only to the Director in terms of intelligence, Strategists are expected to use their minds to manipulate history.</p><p>Tokyo never sleeps, much like any other big city in the world. But the streets are empty enough to slip into alleyways without being spotted.</p><p>He’s on the way to greet a new agent into the 21<sup>st</sup>, with who he will infiltrate the house of a political candidate. They have been tasked with exposing his secret illegal activity before he can be elected a minister. According to Engineers, he keeps files of his involvement in the black market, and the human trafficking ring, in his mansion.</p><p>Glancing at the GPS, he swipes away messages Bokuto sent through the evening. Earlier he declined the offer to hang out after practice, much to Bokuto’s surprise. He forced a grin nonetheless, bowing his head to avoid Akaashi's stare, and said it was okay (even if it wasn't). Akaashi found it difficult to drag himself out of the gym after receiving such a reaction from a sunshine-bright person like Bokuto.</p><p>He's still pissed with Bokuto, even if he can't tell him that. But the more Bokuto furrowed his brows when he received his toss, the more he pressed his lips together instead of cheering after a win - the more Akaashi had to bite his tongue before something rude escaped from his thoughts.</p><p><em>A Strategist needs to be level-headed, imperturbable when faced with adversities</em>.</p><p>Bokuto has begun to test the effectiveness of every breathing exercise taught to him, though.</p><p>By three in the morning, only 24-hour convenience stores remain open. People stumble out of rowdy izayaka bars as they close, and the streets are turning quiet. Following the coordinates on his phone, he reaches the alleyway where his new partner is predicted to arrive.</p><p>Consciousness transfer requires more information than just a host's time of death. The exact time, elevation, latitude, and longitude coordinates of the host's whereabouts are needed before the agent can go back in time. It is the reason Time Operatives can only go as back to the 21<sup>st</sup> century, where an abundance of GPS tracking and CCTV provide the most accurate data. And once an agent goes back in time, the next can't go further back than that point – perhaps, a drawback to meddling with the timestream.</p><p>Greeting new Time Operatives into the 21<sup>st</sup> is their most basic assignment. Whether it's a student or a salaryman, agents can be tasked with finding them and updating them on their mission. In return, they can receive any new information addressed to them from the future.</p><p>But saving someone who’s already dead can be a haunting experience. He needs to accept that’s how things are, but…</p><p>He tells himself that’s how the world works – every time he witnesses a host collapse in agony. The pain bursting through their head as a host's consciousness gets ripped from their body is excruciating. They’re dying and they can do nothing to stop it.</p><p><em>This is for a better future</em>, he reminds himself as he grabs a host moments before they end their life.</p><p>(Only to watch them die anyway, to make room for somebody else inside their head.)</p><p>Akaashi's smartphone flashes when he arrives at his destination. He scans the surroundings for any signs of movement. The alleyway is dark, with the moonlight as his light source. It shines on the ground, and illuminates the body lying there, making it look paler than it already is. Seeing it makes Akaashi to freeze in place for a moment, before he jumps into action and rushes to the corpse.</p><p>“Shit. Shit, shit, shit-!” He curses, kneels over the body, checking for a pulse. “Fuck, please don’t be dead.”</p><p>Losing a newly arrived agent wasn’t something new. Sometimes, circumstances before death are impossible to avoid. Even the swiftest operative can't avoid getting stabbed seconds after arriving to the 21<sup>st</sup>. It's a risk they're willing to take, but the results may not always be successful.</p><p>And it is never ideal to lose someone you were tasked to greet either.</p><p>“I’m not dead.” Answers the not-dead body. The person moves the mess of hair covering his face, revealing a pair of glowing amber eyes. Akaashi finds himself sighing with audible relief. “But <em>you</em> are late.”</p><p>“Maybe you just died early.” He retorts dryly. He followed instructions, and the files predicted the time of death to be three thirty, not three fifteen.</p><p>“It’s fine, I managed to break my attacker’s arm before he could stab any of my vitals – but he still managed to take my money.” The Time Operative grunts as he stands, brushing the dirt off his muddy pants (as if he doesn’t have a big red stain of blood on his shirt to worry about). "It's fine though. I get to hack into dead people's offshore bank accounts and take their money. I don't need the 2000-yen he stole."</p><p>The new agent lets out a sudden hiss, keeling over when the wound on his side is disturbed. In a beat, Akaashi goes to check the wound. It's not deep, so no stitches are necessary, but it definitely hurts. "I've got medicine with me, I can help."</p><p>“It better not be any of that 21<sup>st</sup> century crap.” Akaashi holds up a vial of blood-clotting drops with his brow raised, challenging the agent to think he depends on outdated 21<sup>st</sup>-century medicine. The agent nods his consent, allowing Akaashi to stop the bleeding. "Much appreciated."</p><p>First, Akaashi applies peroxide to the wound, and the new agent discloses how his host was predicted to die (an incident that ended with more than just a cut on the side). Then, Akaashi squeezes a few drops of blood-clotting liquid on a cotton pad, dabbing it on the broken skin. The wound closes up in minutes, leaving an ugly bruise behind. The agent can stand to his full height again - though he's not that tall. “I’m Time Operative 4065, by the way. Or, I guess now I'm Kozume Kenma.”</p><p>“I’m Time Operative 4028,” he replies, sticking a cooling gauze to Kozume’s injury, “I go by Akaashi Keiji.”</p><p>“Nice to meet you, Akaashi-san.”</p><p>Now that his wound is nothing but an internal bruise, Kozume assures Akaashi he can continue with the mission. He’s let off the hook just because their mission isn't one that's supposed to be high-risk.</p><p>Public transport is already done for the night, so they have to walk. On the way, Akaashi briefs Kozume on their mission, whilst simultaneously taking in the interesting features of his new partner’s host.</p><p>Kozume has his hair dyed blonde at the ends. It's common for people to dye their hair in the 21<sup>st</sup>, but it fascinates Akaashi to see it up close. Kozume's eyes are amber, bordering on gold, and they glow like a cat’s.</p><p>Instructors used to say out of every categorised role, it is always easiest to spot a Hacker in the 21<sup>st</sup> century. They said in the transfer process, the host's eyes changed with them. Their eyes hid a certain type of ingenuity specific to Hackers, intimidating anyone to gets caught in their line of sight. Hackers visualise the inner workings of any machine in their mind, and then they can reprogramme it's entire drive to work for them if they want to.</p><p>Akaashi's smartphone flashes when they reach their location; a large mansion house. It's in an estate with dozens more houses just like it. Their target is on an island getaway, and the mansion is supposed to be empty. This will be their best opportunity to break in without being caught.</p><p>Before he can climb the fence, Kozume asks for Akaashi’s phone. “I don’t have the components put in my own phone yet, but there’re cameras all over the place.” He explains as he scrolls through the phone, “I want to disable them before you go inside.” He didn’t even need to ask for Akaashi’s password.</p><p>Not five minutes later, he’s hacked into the security system and disabled the cameras. Akaashi realises Hackers are way scarier in reality than how his instructors described.</p><p>A small smirk edges on the corner of Kozume's lips, like he can tell what Akaashi is thinking. “I’ll stay out here, make sure everything stays disabled.” He keeps Akaashi’s phone, and taps away on the screen.</p><p>The gardens on the other side of the fence are empty. Akaashi picks the lock on the front door, and goes to search for the main office.</p><p>What he doesn’t anticipate finding is an absolute mess of workroom. Papers, documents, old books, and crumbled notes litter any available surface. He shudders at the mere thought of browsing through them all, so he rifles through desk drawers in the hopes of finding a false bottom inside.</p><p>But he gave corrupt men way too much credit for where they keep their illegal documents. With a loud groan, he raises his head to the ceiling, asking for patience, and starts scouring through the clutter.</p><p>As a five-minute infiltration job turns into ten, then fifteen minutes, the computer on the desk turns on, illuminating the room in a glowing blue. Akaashi nearly jumps out of his skin at the sound of Kozume's voice. "What's taking so long?"</p><p>“The target seems to like playing needle in a haystack in the office.” Akaashi gestures to the disorder visible on the camera. “This is going to take more time than anticipated to get through.”</p><p>“I can come and help.” Kozume offers. “Honestly didn’t realise how awkward it is to stand outside covered in blood. What if the neighbours see?”</p><p>Akaashi stifles a laugh. “Sure, if it makes you feel better.”</p><p>The office has four cameras inside, they have to be careful not to disrupt anything in their frame of vision. Kozume borrows one of the gloves Akaashi is using to avoid leaving fingerprints behind, and they undertake the search for a single document in a rat's nest. Soon enough, they dig it out. A thin folder worth more than the hundreds spewed across the room.</p><p>Sneaking out is simple, Kozume turning the cameras back on once they've distanced themselves from the house. All that’s left to do is throw the documents into the claws of the Internet, and watch the man get dragged all the way to hell.</p><p>From the moment they met, it became clear that Kozume had a snarky attitude, with enough wit to rival Akaashi's hidden snark. But as the night continues, he grows more and more quiet, closing in on himself. Now, he’s lost in thought, palm digging into the fabric of Akaashi's glove. He doesn't appear angry or frustrated, just skittish and alert.</p><p>Sometimes, agents can develop similarities to their host when it comes to disposition. Physical differences aside, Akaashi’s body never felt much unlike his original one. The only new development was the mild insomnia.</p><p>For other agents though, it can be harder to adjust - especially if their host was diagnosed with a mental illness.</p><p>“You look a bit young to be an agent.” He says in an attempt to bring Kozume out of his thoughts.</p><p>“Huh? Oh. I’m not.” Kozume returns to reality, shooting an unenthusiastic glare at Akaashi. “I’m nineteen, just like you. The Director doesn’t send underage Time Operatives into the 21<sup>st</sup>.”</p><p>“Of course. It interferes with their mental and physical developments.” He recounts. “The safest way to time travel is to transfer an agent’s consciousness into an individual the same age as them. That way, developmental issues won’t arise in either of them.”</p><p>They lose themselves in conversation, vague references to the future, and comments about the present. It's enough to distract Kozume from his nervousness for the time being.</p><p>Sneaking into a public library, Kozume uploads photos of the stolen documents onto the Internet. Once it circulates to social media, the Director sends word that their mission is over. They have altered the future.</p><p>“Good work today, Kozume-san.” They slip out of the building through an open window and head in the general direction of their homes.</p><p>“You should call me Kenma.” Kozume says, “I hate these old-style social hierarchies – we’re the same age, and we’re going to be working together a lot. Might as well get over the formalities now.”</p><p>Akaashi grins. “Then it’s only fair that you call me Keiji.”</p><p>Using Akaashi’s given name is strange. Not even Bokuto has the courage to refer to him by his given name - but that hopeless romantic can’t even handle when their hands brush by accident.</p><p>For once though, it’s not something he minds – being close to a fellow Time Operative.</p><p>“Hopefully we get assigned on more missions together soon. I like working with you, Keiji.” Kenma says. Akaashi finds himself agreeing.</p><p>--</p><p>One day, after they finish evening practice, Konoha asks. “Hey, Akaashi, do you ever sleep anymore?”</p><p>"I've got a nap schedules for next Tuesday, but otherwise, no." He says, rubbing his face, as Konoha laughs.</p><p>A quick glimpse of his reflection on his phone screen is enough to see how the bags beneath Akaashi’s eyes have gotten more pronounced. Perhaps buying some concealer would cover them up – at least people will stop gawking at him with so much concern.</p><p>Recently, the Director has begun assigning him on more missions. Kenma assists him and the other agents, making work easier and quicker to complete. Kenma helps conduct missions without a hitch. Their teamwork is admired by other operatives.</p><p>But it still takes a toll on his host’s body.</p><p>The ‘late-night studying’ excuse can fool people so many times before they get suspicious. His patience can endure Bokuto’s disdain for so long before it reaches a limit.</p><p>
  <em>(Akaashi’s tosses don’t feel the same, Akaashi’s sets are different, Akaashi’s compliments are strange.)</em>
</p><p>
  <em>(Akaashi isn’t like he used to be.)</em>
</p><p>Bokuto has yet to openly confront him about these issues. But it all builds up, in the way Bokuto’s back slumped and his gaze eluded the setter, and the way Akaaashi’s hands clenched into fists behind his back.</p><p>After practice, everyone analyses each other’s plays, and something grows heavy in the air when Bokuto avoids talking about Akaashi’s tosses the entire time. A cord of tension is on the court, pulled taut, and reaching closer to its breaking point.</p><p>He feels like he’s failing; as Akaashi Keiji, and as a Time Operative.</p><p>He feels something ugly invade his mind, veil his thoughts, and cloud the court.</p><p>The rest of the team realise too; this is more than Akaashi’s usual bout of exhaustion unbalancing his form. Konoha is the only one brave enough to approach Akaashi at practice.</p><p>For the sake of the team, he tries to keep his expression stoic and his plays accurate. He overhears talk of going to an izayaka for drinks tonight. Bokuto has asked Akaashi to stay back and toss for him, so he declines the offer to join everyone else when they ask.</p><p>The second they leave the gym, they visibly relax. They escaped the tension and left it to simmer on Akaashi’s shoulders.</p><p>Extra practice is silent. Bokuto doesn’t talk, and Akaashi doesn’t bother making conversation. He sets the ball to Bokuto, watches him jump into the air. The ball flies over the net, a spike so powerful it could break through an iron-wall block. It's quick, overwhelming, perfect. Nobody could have possibly stopped that.</p><p>Bokuto inspects his palm, red from so many spikes, and he frowns.</p><p>Akaashi doesn’t pick up another ball.</p><p>“It’s just not right.” Bokuto sighs, “your tosses aren’t the same anymore, Akaashi.”</p><p>Akaashi doesn’t realise his fingers grip tight on the hem of his jersey, creasing the fabric. “What’s wrong with my sets? You hit the ball every time – perfectly. Nobody can even touch your spikes.”</p><p>“I know, I know, but they just don’t feel like your tosses anymore.” Bokuto rubs at the back of his neck, eyes downcast to Akaashi's clenched fists. “They used to be perfect, like a <em>whoosh</em>, and it always felt like… they were meant for me.”</p><p>It’s like he’s underwater with the way his pulse thrums in his ears. He can only hear one thing over and over again, like a nightmarish mantra. (<em>You are not good enough, you will never survive this training, you’re too weak, you're a failure, you’re failing failing failing-)</em></p><p>He doesn’t know what a <em>whoosh</em> feeling is. He doesn’t understand how it’s possible for a toss to be meant only for Bokuto.</p><p>“What do you want me to say to that?” He controls his tone, but Akaashi’s voice is cold as steel. “Why does it matter that I’ve changed my tosses? They’re better than they used to be, and nobody else on the team seems to have a problem with them, except for you, Bokuto-san. So I don’t understand what your problem is if I can’t give you these ‘<em>perfect Akaashi tosses</em>’ anymore.”</p><p>“Akaashi, are you…” Bokuto gulps, stepping back to distance himself from the other, “is there something wrong with me?”</p><p>“Huh?” Words stick to Akaashi's throat, caught off guard by the unexpected question.</p><p>“You’re so different all of a sudden.” Bokuto says. “You’ve become so serious and cold around me - around everyone - and you’re more closed-off than you’ve ever been before. It’s like you’re a completely different person.”</p><p>According to Protocol, Time Operatives are forbidden from ever revealing their true identities to anyone in the 21<sup>st</sup>. Doing so would jeopardise the mission and put the entire Taskforce at risk. They can't raise suspicion, and they must avoid any action out of line to their host.</p><p>He is Traveller 4028, but he's supposed to be Akaashi Keiji now. And yet he can't be Akaashi Keiji because one fucking person is too perceptive to let anything slide when it comes to the boy he loves.</p><p>“Please tell me what’s wrong, Akaashi. Why are you acting like this?” Bokuto is trying so hard to help the person he cares for more than anybody else. He’s clawing his way past the walls built over Akaashi's heart to figure out what has caused his friend to change so much. Bokuto would be devastated if he found out the truth. “Please, if it’s… if it’s something I said or did to upset you, then I want to fix it.”</p><p>“Maybe that’s the problem.” His voice cracks. “Maybe you’re the reason why I’m acting like this.”</p><p>Bokuto falters. “What do you mean?”</p><p>“Maybe I just want to do things on my own, Bokuto-san.” His muscles are stiff with enough tension to make his hands shake. He uses a tone similar to how a strict instructor used to talk to him. The one who taught him to separate emotions from work.</p><p><em>That’s it</em>. That’s what he needs to do.</p><p>He needs to treat this like work – he needs to treat Bokuto like an obstacle between him and his job. If he can’t do that, he will fail. "I want to improve my sets so they’re perfect for everyone. I want to focus on my studies, prepare for my summer courses, and work towards my degree. I don't need you breathing down my neck every single minute of the day, Bokuto-san."</p><p>Bokuto is just a distraction, an obstacle. Akaashi just needs to get past him. Even if it ends with one of them getting hurt in the process.</p><p>“You think I’m a distraction?” Bokuto asks incredulously. His muscles are as rigid as Akaashi’s.</p><p>It's clear he doesn't believe him. Bokuto knows Akaashi too well to fall for that.</p><p>“I want to focus on myself.” Akaashi concludes inconclusively. “There is nothing wrong with me, Bokuto-san. It’s you who is unhappy with the way I do things now.”</p><p>Bokuto doesn’t speak. The silence between them drags on and rings in their ears.</p><p>“If that’s the only excuse you can tell me, then <em>fine</em>.” Bokuto grits out, mustering the closest thing to a glare that a person as sweet as him could have. His voice is wobbling though. His eyes are shining under the lights like how water glitters under the sun.</p><p>Akaashi hardens his expression. “If you don’t believe me, then that is your own issue, Bokuto-san.” Turning his back, he storms away. “I’m tired of this. If you can’t accept my wish to improve and change myself, then I have no interest in listening to your judgements.”</p><p>He doesn't bother to change out of his volleyball uniform, grabbing his stuff before storming out. He can’t stay in the gym any longer. If he faces Bokuto again like that, he will just add more oil to the flames.</p><p>Protocol states that maintaining relationships in your host's life is integral to keeping your cover. For the first time in a long time, he wants to argue against that rule. He wants to rip it apart, he's so frustrated.</p><p>The rules never take into consideration how complex and delicate relationships can be. Rules don't know how love can make someone so perceptive, and how emotions make him so weak.</p><p>Akaashi leaves the university campus, feet stomping on the pavement in a way he was taught not to do. He doesn’t want to look at Bokuto again, and see him crumble under suppressed anger and sadness.</p><p>Bokuto is a distraction and he needs to be treated as such. So then why is his chest so inexplicably tight after overcoming this obstacle?</p><p>--</p><p>With Bokuto no longer at his side, Akaashi has more time than ever to focus on work. He contacts other agents in Tokyo, configuring their positions and their categorised roles. He gathers information and arranges mission plans, writes up mission reports, and notes new changes in the future. It allows him to escape his mind, where images of Bokuto’s tremoring expression and misty eyes appear every time he gets distracted.</p><p>Time Operatives are categorised into four main roles:</p><p>Healers are the medical experts among them, trained doctors and masters of every procedure. Plenty of them are scattered through in the city, Akaashi discerns, which is always a good thing.</p><p>Next are the Warriors, also plentiful in every district in the city. The soldiers of the Taskforce, they’re trained for high-stakes missions, and to protect their fellow agents.</p><p>Hackers are - as the name states - intelligence agents. They're trained in tech, capable of accessing anything they need, and as integral to the mission as the Director. About a dozen or so Hackers are in the present, but it’s a decent enough number.</p><p>Last are the Strategists. In Tokyo, Akaashi is the only one. He was hoping for at least four or five more like him.</p><p>Strategists are the designated brains of the Taskforce. They're information gathering specialists, using their minds to see ten steps ahead, but never let on what they think. They're the children with the highest IQ, chosen by the Taskforce before even learning how to walk. If Hackers are intelligence agents, then Strategists are pragmatic intelligence systems, capable of memorising every piece of information they receive.</p><p>The insane expectations are why there aren’t many Strategists in the first place. The Taskforce labelled him a Strategist before his long-term memory even developed. He worked his entire life to prove their expectations of him were right, and then he went above.</p><p>Opening up a holographic map of the city, he taps on every base the agents have established. Mechanic Operative stations are the hubs which act as their base of operations. Those agents are Mechanics. Though not part of the main categorised roles, their contribution to the mission is fundamental. They specialise in creating equipment from the future, things yet to exist in the 21<sup>st</sup>.</p><p>The Mech. Operative stations are secret locations blending in with the regular world. Every base poses as a different building, sometimes a cafe, or a car shop, or even a library. In each building, a section is only accessible to Time Operatives, where agents meet for missions, where Healers perform emergency surgeries, and Hackers gather intel.</p><p>Kenma has established his unofficial base of operations in an older hub, a quiet library with few visitors. But the section accessible to Time Operatives is big, and Kenma gets a whole workroom to himself. Akaashi finds himself going there more often than not.</p><p>On missions, he becomes aware of interesting things. Kenma's tact rivals that of a Strategist's, but he's different from them - from Akaashi. He wasn't trained to be a memory system. He doesn't have the same information implanted into his mind, like Akaashi and the others. Kenma is creative in ways Akaashi isn't. In his categorised role, it's encouraged.</p><p>For Kenma, the challenge of finding different ways to conduct a mission is thrilling. If Akaashi ever dared to question his teachings, he risked getting removed from the Taskforce.</p><p>In Akaashi's humble opinion, the ones worthy of being called the Director's close equals should be the Hackers.</p><p>It's refreshing to be with other Time Operatives outside of his own categorised role. In the future, they never met anyone outside their own role, except in training simulations - which were done virtually. In the 21<sup>st</sup> century, he can learn alternative tactics, different skills, new perspectives he's never known before. And he won’t get in trouble for it anymore either.</p><p>He forms the Taskforce-equivalent of a stable workplace relationship with the other agents. It's like their co-workers in an office job, but the work is infiltrating drug deals and stopping corruption.</p><p>However, he's formed something more with Kenma. Time Operatives are discouraged from meeting outside of the base and mission, not unless their hosts knew each other prior to the consciousness transfer. It’s be risky to get caught with a person your host is not supposed to know. So Akaashi can’t really call Kenma his friend, but their relationship can’t be described as anything less either.</p><p>But something about Kenma’s presence makes Akaashi feel 'normal'. There isn’t pressure to pretend to be someone he isn’t, even if for a moment. He doesn’t have to be Akaashi Keiji, nor does he have to be an all-knowing Strategist. He can just... be himself (whoever that is).</p><p>He bought cat-eared headphones for Kenma as a joke, and it was then that Akaashi admitted to himself whatever they have is some form of an unconventional friendship. He thought it would be funny for Kenma to use them when he's gaming - a hobby he's picked up thanks to his host. But the Hacker has taken to donning them on missions too. He said it was his first ever gift, and he cherished it because of that. Gift-giving was not a common practice in the future, so Akaashi should not have felt so elated that Kenma liked his ‘gift’.</p><p>Also, it's strange to glimpse at a pair of pink cat-ears on top of Kenma’s blonde head when he disables the most complex security system in the country.</p><p>Once their missions finish, Akaashi rushes straight to morning practice. He goes about Akaashi Keiji's normal routine, attends his classes, studies, and plays volleyball. The biggest difference now is Bokuto Koutarou's diminishing presence in his life.</p><p>Bokuto doesn't talk to him unless he has to, and Akaashi doesn't go to say anything to Bokuto either. They no longer walk to university together, but sometimes Akaashi will catch sight of Bokuto ahead of him going to campus. Other times, he'll sense Bokuto's sly gaze on the back of his head. They pretend like they don't see each other. They don't walk each other to their classes anymore, and Akaashi has to stop expecting Bokuto to sit with him at lunch.</p><p>Bokuto never asks him to stay back for extra practice anymore.</p><p>He should not be lonely, but there's a yearning so intense it manifests itself as an ache in Akaashi’s body.</p><p>Part of Akaashi Keiji is incomplete without Bokuto Koutarou, and the results of their unfinished equation <em>hurt</em>. The answer is so simple, it’s laughable to get it wrong. Two plus two equals fours. Akaashi plus Bokuto equals a whole. Yet he has managed to get it completely wrong and fuck it all up.</p><p>The story about stars reborn as humans crosses his mind. He recalls the theory of cosmic connection, and thinks of the human who became homesick for a star from the same furnace. As a child, he never believed the tale, but it fascinated him enough to stick in his mind years later.</p><p>But maybe the residue cosmic matter of Akaashi Keiji's soul has been left behind in the transfer and it longs for his star.</p><p>(Maybe it’s a feeling that’s not Akaashi’s, but something entirely his own.)</p><p>He spots Bokuto leaving campus with some friends, and finds himself noticing Bokuto's grin, listening to his laugh, observing how his entire being seems to glow beneath the sunset. Bokuto has a magnetic pull to him, and he draws everyone his way.</p><p>He is no exception either.</p><p>Sensing someone's gaze, Bokuto's head turns to Akaashi, as if he knews exactly where he was. He expected Bokuto's radiance to dampen, for his glow to dim. But instead, Bokuto smiles at him too.</p><p>He glows with sunlight, bathed in yellow and orange that softens his features. His surroundings blur until only the two of them exist. Akaashi's lips part, as if ready to call a familiar name, but his mind is blank. Their laughter echoes and drowns beneath the noise of the world.</p><p>Exhaling a shuddering breath, Akaashi's brain restarts, thoughts whirring to overdrive. Part of him wants to run, find Bokuto and stay in his presence for as long as he is allowed. It's a greedy part he never dealt with before.</p><p>But he doesn’t listen to that greedy, scary desire, and instead, turns the other way, returning to an empty apartment, months away from getting demolished.</p><p>--</p><p>No one has the guts to come forward and force Akaashi to talk with Bokuto so they can finally reconcile. The cycle of stifling tension is never-ending on the court.</p><p>It’s the first time anyone has seen the two of them get into an argument like this one, where neither wants to talk it out in the aftermath. Of course, they had little arguments here and there, but one can say Bokuto and Akaashi never actually fought. Disagreements were rarely allowed to last more than a day, they always forced themselves to talk things out, even if it meant staying up on the phone all night with each other. Everyone saw it was something different this time, and they steer clear from their line of fire.</p><p>Days turn to weeks, and Akaashi has no time for guilt because of the strained atmosphere he has created on the court. He gets called to more and more missions now; infiltrations, drug deals, spy gigs. He plans them out and guides other agents from the base as they follow his commands. Sometimes he participates too, disguising himself as the supercilious rich boy at a banquet to lure out his target. Sometimes he infiltrates intelligence agencies to steal important codes for their military weapons.</p><p>The nights are long, to say the least.</p><p>When practice finishes, he changes out of his jersey and rushes to the base of operations. It’s his routine by now. Today, he arrives at the same time as Kenma, whose face is flushed red from his time at his own volleyball practice. His hair is wind-swept, like he didn’t get a chance to even brush it before rushing straight here. Otherwise, he’s taken to tying it back into a small ponytail.</p><p>They say a winded ‘hey’ in greeting, speed-walking as quick as possible in the quiet library. At the front desk, they speak to the Mechanic disguised as a librarian, relaying the secret code only Time Operatives know. She offers a polite smile, guiding them to the 'Staff Only' doors and inputs the passcode only Mechanics can know. The two agents practically sprint down the hall to get to the hub.</p><p>On the outside, this part of the building appears like an unused extension of the library. Ivy grows on the brick walls, with thumb-sized gadgets hidden between the windows and the leaves. The holographic images they reflect on the windows give an illusion that nobody is there. Just simple technology from the future to protect the agents in the present.</p><p>On the inside, the abandoned library wing is geared with top-of-the-line tech. Equipment and weapons never-before-seen in the 21<sup>st</sup> century. There's an artillery, with enough weapons to put a military base to shame. A section of the building is specific for Healers, where entire operating stations are prepared for surgery and emergency treatment. Nearby, a computer room for Hackers has been furnished similar to what a secret government base has for their own intelligence agents. Kenma has his own workroom, what used to be the small breakroom has become something like a second home for him, fitted out with the latest computer models on the market.</p><p>Strategists don’t have a space arranged for them, unless the meeting room counts. That could be labelled as the Strategist's space, since they're the best schemers and tacticians in the Taskforce. But Akaashi doesn't like it. Too big for one person, and too quiet when no one else is there. Most of the time, he finds himself working in Kenma's base of operations.</p><p>Kenma isn't a talkative person, stuck in computers or videogames more often than not. But his presence is a comfort in itself. Their teamwork is phenomenal, and Akaashi has enough basic training in hacking to help Kenma on missions if he ever needs it (which he doesn't, but Kenma still lets Akaashi help so he feels useful). They track down important government figures, communicate with Engineers in the future, and procure fake alibis for any agent who may need it. Akaashi plans the missions, searches for facility blueprints to help with infiltrations, and Kenma acts as the guide making all his plans a reality.</p><p>When dawn prepares to break, they’ve finished their work, and sent out their mission reports. They sit in Kenma's workroom, and bask in one another's presence. Kenma plays on his PSP, and Akaashi read books, or studies for exams.</p><p>They don't talk much of the future (Protocol 2: leave the future in the past), but it is still pleasant to be with somebody who can understand you. Akaashi doesn't feel so lonely anymore.</p><p>"I don't get memes." Kenma says, squinting at his dim phone screen like he's struggling to decipher a confusing code. "Why does Kuroo tell me I look like this cat photo? Does my host look like a cat?"</p><p>Akaashi gives him a once-over. Amber eyes glowing with knowledge, pink kitty headphones atop his head, chin resting on his knees. "Nope. You’re quite human to me, Kenma."</p><p>Kenma’s eyes narrow in suspicion. He returns to his phone, brows furrowed in concentration, like he's tackling the most difficult security system he's ever seen. “Memes are weird. Kuroo is weird too.”</p><p>Kenma complains about Kuroo Tetsurou often enough for Akaashi to conjure a vivid image of him in his mind. He's Kozume Kenma's childhood friend, a year older, but attending the same university. Kenma told Akaashi that Kuroo referred to them as soulmates (whether it was a joke or not, Kenma didn't know). At first, Kenma had difficulty adjusting to Kuroo's personality - he even found him kind of annoying and clingy.</p><p>“You’ve grown rather fond of Kuroo Tetsurou now, don’t you think?” Akaashi muses, hiding a grin behind his book.</p><p>“I’m not fond of him,” Kenma says with a fond smile aimed at his phone, “I’ve just gotten used to his behaviour, is all.”</p><p>Akaashi hums, unconvinced. “But you’re trying so hard to communicate in this meme language with him now.”</p><p>“My host is supposed to understand it, so I’m trying to decipher what it means too.” Kenma retorts. “This is worse than CIA infiltration 101.”</p><p>Akaashi snorts.</p><p>Kenma’s phone pings the moment he sets it down, and he doesn’t hesitate to pick it back up again. “Kuroo can be… a lot to handle but, I understand now - how a personality like his could’ve helped my host throughout their life.” He bites his lip. “I thought he was suspicious of me at first –with all the constant hovering and questions. But now I understand he just wants to stay by my host because he’s worries Kenma will have an anxiety attack.”</p><p><em>Right</em>, Akaashi recalls, his host had an anxiety disorder. <em>And it appears to have kept its claw in the body even after the consciousness transfer process.</em></p><p>“You’re going to have to stop referring to yourself and your host as separate entities,” he points out, “he’s not ‘my host’. You <em>are</em> Kozume Kenma now.”</p><p>“You’re one to talk.” Kenma pouts. “You say ‘me and my host’ more often than I do.”</p><p>Time travel is a one-way ticket. It is not possible for agents to ever return to the future. He knows he will have to live the rest of his life out as Akaashi Keiji, however long or short that may be. But it's still a hard truth to grasp.</p><p>“Let me try it now then.” He rises to the challenge, spinning in his chair to regard the Hacker. “My host – no, wait… There’s a third-year in my volleyball club. He’s in love with me. And I mean, it’s the hopeless romantic type of love.”</p><p>Kenma’s stoic expression falters a fraction in surprise. “Oh.”</p><p>Akaashi has yet to mention Bokuto before, not thinking it a topic worth discussing with other agents. But Kenma talks about Kuroo, so it seems fair to mention Bokuto too. The parallels between their predicaments are not lost to Akaashi.</p><p>The silence stretches on a second longer. “If it makes you feel any better,” Kenma pipes up, “I think I was in love with Kuroo.”</p><p>Akaashi blinks. “Oh.”</p><p>“From what I’ve gathered, Kenma – I mean, <em>I</em> didn’t make it very obvious,” he leans back in his leather chair, staring at the ceiling full of cobwebs they have yet to clean, “but because of this crippling anxiety bullshit, I chose to hide my feelings instead. I was too scared of rejection. Losing Kuroo as a friend was worse than never confessing my feelings to him."</p><p>The book on Akaashi's lap has slipped closed on its own. He brings it to his chest. The bookmark is somewhere on Kenma's desk.</p><p>“But now that I’m here in his place, it’s… it’s pretty obvious that Kuroo feels the same way Kenma did.”</p><p>Every single agent is taught the same procedure from their first day in the Taskforce. Live your host's life without raising suspicion. Never talk about the future. Obey the Director's orders. Don't endanger the life of your host. Live a normal life.</p><p>Nobody mentioned the complexities that come with leading an ordinary life.</p><p>Artificial intelligence was built in order to predict how certain actions change the timeline, and calculate what set of actions will bring them closer to achieving an optimum path to a better future. Their missions and their lives are constructed around these hypotheses. As a Strategist, he's never questioned it, because he was told the AI are always correct.</p><p>AI predicted his life as Akaashi Keiji. It told him what to expect as a student, as a volleyball player, an aspiring doctor. It told him what not to do, what to avoid so he didn't put the mission at risk. The Taskforce's AI are 99.9% accurate in their hypotheses, so he never needed to question the success rate.</p><p>But a machine could have never understood the intricacies of another human. It didn't tell him about Akaashi's love for mustard nanohana and spicy food. It didn't know his habit of cleaning his apartment every weekend. It didn't mention anything about his dedication to his friends. An AI could never understand the significance of Bokuto Koutarou in Akaashi's life.</p><p>For Kenma, it could have never known about his love for videogames. It didn't foresee his anxiety disorder. It couldn't have mentioned how Kenma didn't particularly love volleyball, but he was good at it. A machine could never see how important Kuroo Tetsurou was for a person like Kozume Kenma.</p><p>“I never thought we’d both end up dealing with unwanted romance issues.” He muses with a sardonic grin. “What a normal 21<sup>st</sup> century struggle.”</p><p>Kenma huffs quietly, the closest thing to a laugh Akaashi has gotten from him. “Just uni-life struggles, I guess.”</p><p>Relying on predictions isn't the same in the 21<sup>st</sup> century like it was in the future. AI treat statistical outliers as uncommon in every situation. They aren't programmed to understand that human outliers are normal. The Director merely gives orders that bring the best results under current conditions, even if it means suffering multiple casualties.</p><p>(<em>Not like it matters if one of us dies </em>- there will be a new host, and a new agent can replace them eventually. Death is not the end for the Taskforce.)</p><p>They will move to bigger missions, bigger tasks, more butterfly missions. They will continue risking their lives for the mission.</p><p>And they must continue to live the normal life that they stole.</p><p>--</p><p>On every unit task, he gets to meet new Time Operatives. There are parents asking to hurry the mission along so they can collect their children from school. There are young adults, struggling to find employment. There are agents now left to deal with their host's alcoholism, their drug addiction, living with crimes they committed. There are students with terrible home situations. Agents struggling to cope with a host's physical and mental issues, unaccustomed to different bodies and minds.</p><p>Akaashi has his own issues too, he supposes. The mild insomnia coming over him can be a nuisance, but he’s growing used to it. His situation with his parents isn’t good either, and he has to keep his eyes peeled for them and their meddling.</p><p>Kenma though. He’s got it worse.</p><p>One thing to note is that Kenma never calls Akaashi using a normal phone app. Agents install encrypted communicators into their phones, since it can be risky to communicate by normal means. So when he sees Kenma’s phone number on the screen, his immediate thought is that something is very, very wrong.</p><p>Akaashi scrambles to his feet and runs out of the gym. Kenma never contacts anyone through the normal call app. Not unless he didn't have enough time to access the communicators. Coach calls after Akaashi, but he ignores him. He'll have to think of an excuse to explain this, but that's something to think about later. He swipes up on his phone, scrambling to answer Kenma's call with shaking fingers. He catches Bokuto's look of concern from the corner of his peripheral.</p><p>Running behind the building in hopes that no one will hear him, he presses the phone to his ear with caution. “Kenma? What’s wrong?”</p><p>Heavy breathing answer him, sharp and tinny over the speaker. It sounds like Kenma can't take any air into his lungs, and Akaashi's stomach drops, mind jumping to the worst. He presses the phone to his ear, trying to make out the words Kenma is saying. “Panic… anxiety… I can’t… can’t find Kuroo.”</p><p><em>Shit</em>, Akaashi's mind freezes, <em>Kenma's having an anxiety attack</em>. The one person who knows how to deal with them isn't there.</p><p>Agents were never trained to deal with panic attacks - not even their Healers are taught how to handle them. The Taskforce's priority was always survival, and that didn't include the agent's mental stability. Hell knows, they're already way too fucked up in the head as it is.</p><p>Akaashi tries to do what he can, remembering the techniques they use to calm wounded patients. Kenma focuses on his voice, following Akaashi's words; breath in through your nose, hold for seven, then out through your mouth - <em>now again, Kenma, you can do it, and hold it for longer, breath out slower, there we go-</em></p><p>It’s like forever has passed, but it's been a few minutes. Eventually, Kenma's erratic panting slows until he's completely depleted on the other side of the line.</p><p>“I’m-I’m sorry.” Kenma says. He’s wheezing like he’s just finished a combat simulation marathon. “I don’t…don’t know why I called you, just… I wasn’t thinking straight.”</p><p>“It’s alright,” he assures him, resting against the rough brick wall of the gym, “I’m relieved you reached out to someone in the first place – even if it’s me.”</p><p>Something close to a chuckle fizzles on the other side. “This is a pain to deal with.”</p><p>Akaashi hums his agreement. It's difficult to imagine how life must have been for the previous Kozume Kenma. The current one, <em>his</em> Kenma, manages the predisposed anxiety as well as anyone forced into a different body would. He's not the same as his host, snarky and witty, even if it gets him into trouble. He takes no shit from anyone, and has the fearless guts to stand up to Engineers if they annoy him, knowing they won’t get rid of their most valued Hacker over a few insults and questions.</p><p>But one can deal with so much before the anxious turmoil claws its way up. Before Kenma starts second-guessing himself, his abilities and decisions, his worth. There are days where Kenma can comeback with the nastiest retort, and there are days where he can barely do more than get by until the break of dawn.</p><p>He’s never gotten so bad that he suffered an anxiety attack though. He sounds exhausted.</p><p>“You should call or text Kuroo after we hang up,” Akaashi says gently, “he’s good at taking care of you, right? I’m sure he will know just how to help you.”</p><p>“Can we meet after?” Kenma asks, and Akaashi’s heart swells with something warm.</p><p>“Of course,” he says, “I’ll be at the library by seven – take your time coming by.”</p><p>They hesitate to end the call. The bubble of comfort they've created for themselves is reassuring, safe. He listens to Kenma's steady breaths, and thinks of the repercussions he'll receive from Coach. Finally, he hangs up, promising to see Kenma later. Akaashi returns to the gym with an apology prepared - a believable excuse about an emergency call he couldn't ignore.</p><p><em>I’m a good liar</em>, he reminds himself, <em>it’s just Bokuto-san who can see through all of them</em>.</p><p>Coach believes him and lets him off the hook this time. They get back to practice, and everyone pretends like everything is okay for the sake of not getting scolded by Coach again. The entire evening, Bokuto glances Akaashi’s way with concern. Akaashi gives Bokuto the least number of sets today.</p><p>By the end, he stays back to clean as a way to make up for missing fifteen minutes of practice. He expects the locker room to be empty, everyone having left while he was cleaning, but when he opens the doors, Bokuto is inside, zipping up his jacket.</p><p>For a moment, time stops. They don't move, afraid to disturb the silence, taking each other in for the first time in weeks.</p><p>Bokuto is the first to break eye contact, opening his mouth like he wants to say something. In the end, he decides against it, gabbing his bags, and brushes past Akaashi to get out the door.</p><p>Akaashi’s breath dies in the lungs constricted inside his chest. He grabs his stuff, telling himself he’s too preoccupied to deal with Bokuto right now, much less think about him until his head spins. He heads out and goes to the city.</p><p>By the time he arrives at the library and accesses the Mech. Operative’s base, Kenma is already there, facedown on the soft-cushioned sofa and buried under a fluffy blanket and pillows. Every time Akaashi comes by, a new piece of furniture or equipment is added to the décor of the place. Sooner or later, it’ll be better than Akaashi’s apartment – but that’s not a hard obstacle to surpass.</p><p>“I don’t understand." Kenma mumbles into the cushion. He doesn't bother looking up to confirm who came into the room. The only person brave enough to do that is Akaashi (and the only one who knows the passcode to Kenma's security lock is him). “Mental health issues aren’t supposed to stick around when you transfer your consciousness into a pre-diagnosed host. We were told that doesn’t fuckin’ happen.”</p><p>Akaashi shrugs even though Kenma can’t see it, setting down some tea he bought for him at a café – green tea, decaffeinated, with a dollop of honey. Kenma hates decaf, but right now, Akaashi won’t let him have anything else. “From what I’ve seen with other agents, the Taskforce was wrong about that. They either refuse to admit it, or don't want agents to believe they'll be dealing with anxiety attacks before missions."</p><p>Kenma groans. “What the fuck.”</p><p>“Technically, you have your hosts brain now, and predispositions remain after consciousness transfer.” Akaashi continues. “Like how Time Operatives with physical disabilities don’t magically get their legs to work, or their sight to return, right?”</p><p>The more he explains his theory, the less happy Kenma’s head of hair becomes. Rising from where he's suffocating himself into the sofa, Kenma grabs the tea on the table. "It fucking sucks."</p><p>“You’re on a roll today, using ‘fuck’ in every sentence.”</p><p>“Shut up, Keiji.”</p><p>Akaashi smiles, knowing Kenma doesn’t mean it. He finds himself smiling more when he’s with the Hacker.</p><p>Whether it was an outlier or a failed prediction, a plan sent their way by the Director, or something the future failed to take into account, Akaashi is glad the one thing that came about in the 21<sup>st</sup> was his chance to meet Kenma.</p><p>"Are you too exhausted to review some mission reports with me?"</p><p>"Those are boring as hell."</p><p>"I know, but they don't take much effort to do."</p><p>"Fine."</p><p>"Cool. You can take Uchimura's team reports."</p><p>Kenma groans into the pillow.</p><p>--</p><p>When Akaashi's insomnia can no longer keep up, he starts slacking. Everything is piling up - assignments, extra lab work, volleyball practice, studying, missions - until he struggles to move. And then he starts making mistakes.</p><p>Today, he has to save a student - someone from the same university as him - predicted to die after stumbling into a crime deal by accident. She has the potential of becoming an important political figure in the future. Before she can walk into her death, he stops her. But the two of them get spotted by the yakuza, and a fight breaks out.</p><p>Akaashi gets the girl to run away from the scene, and he's left to fight his way out of the situation. Every agent is a skilled fighter in the Taskforce, but Akaashi is fatigued. It causes him to underestimate his opponents, fail to take in all the surroundings, and miss the knife coming towards him. It slashes into his side, and spews blood on his shirt.</p><p>The wound is shallow, cutting through his skin, but it's enough to wake him up out of his exhaustion. Adrenaline pumps in his veins, sparking the desperate will to live that every human possesses. He fights them like he means it, knocking his opponents to the ground, escaping without many more injuries before they regain consciousness.</p><p>Somehow, he finds himself back at campus, sneaking into the gym changing rooms to clean up his wounds. Volleyball practice has long been finished for the day, so Akaashi doesn’t even think about getting caught in the middle of closing up his own wound. He leans against the tiled wall in the showers, where he can wash away any blood that drips on the floor. He finishes in a few minutes, and finally allows himself relax, the fatigue heavy on his whole body.</p><p>Throwing a clean t-shirt over his head, he slips back into the changing rooms, only to find the doors open, and Bokuto inside. He freezes in shock, eyes wide as he takes in Akaashi’s form.</p><p><em>Bokuto was doing extra practice</em>, he realises, <em>all by himself</em>.</p><p>He bundles the bloodied shirt behind his back, hoping Bokuto doesn’t notice it.</p><p>“Oh, uh… hi…” It’s more of an exhale than anything, the first words exchanged between them in weeks. “I-I didn’t think anyone else was here.”</p><p>The scratch he received under his eyes during the brawl looks like a beacon. He doesn't have make-up to cover it, and can only hope the low lighting will shield him instead. “I was… I was studying in the library. Accidentally spilled a drink on my shirt so I, well, I came here to change.”</p><p>It’s believable enough.</p><p>Akaashi stuffs the shirt into his bag, closing it before Bokuto can see. Blood has seeped into the lines of his palms and dried under his nails. It’s faint because he didn’t managed to wash all of it off. He isn’t sure if that’s his own blood, or his opponents.</p><p>This is not the way he wanted to talk to Bokuto again.</p><p>They move in silence, Boktuo changing out of his jersey, Akaashi pretending like he’s shuffling through his bags. He knows that Bokuto knows there’s no point for him to linger, but neither of them point that out.</p><p>“Akaashi…” Bokuto’s back is facing him, “I don’t… I’m getting tired of this-this <em>thing</em> between us.”</p><p>“Wh-what do you mean, Bokuto-san?”</p><p>“You’ve been…” <em>I’ve been trying to push you away</em>, “…we’ve been playing a petty game of pretending not to see each other, and it’s getting ridiculous at this point…” <em>I’ve been trying to push you away, and I regret it so fucking much.</em></p><p>Akaashi fixates on the fray strings his bag, thinking of something to say other than what tries to spill from his thoughts. “I’m tired of being away from you like this…” he hears Bokuto’s breath catch in his throat.</p><p>There’s a lump in Akaashi’s throat that he can’t seem to swallow down. “Nothing is the same without you, Bokuto-san.”</p><p>The silence stretches on for so long that Akaashi starts to wonder if it will ever break. He suddenly regrets every word that left his mouth, flushing with the shame of showing weakness. “I shouldn’t have… that’s my bad, I’ll just-”</p><p>Just as he goes to grab his bag and hightail it out of the building, a hand on his forearm spins him around to stare directly into Bokuto’s eyes. They look like golden sunlight shining on honey, so, so close. Bokuto scans his features, settling on the scratch high on his cheekbone.</p><p>“Is that a bruise?” A thumb swipes at it, gentle and warm enough to make Akaashi tremble. Bokuto flinches away like he’s the one who got hurt, but it quickly returns again, much more careful this time.</p><p>“It-it’s nothing.” He can’t seem to speak when warm fingers sweep across his face. They caress his cheek in a way that’s borderline intimate.</p><p>Golden eyes dart up and down his form, searching for any more injuries he’s hiding (Akaashi has to fight the urge to press on the wound at his side). Bokuto's touch stops under the dark circles of sleeplessness beneath his eyes, holding him in such a way that Akaashi couldn’t avert his gaze even if he wanted to.</p><p>(His mind tries to scream at him, to remind him this touch isn’t for him.)</p><p>“I just… it was an accident, in my-my lab class today; hit the worktable by accident…”</p><p>Akaashi’s body is pulled into an embrace, with his nose buried in Bokuto’s neck. He makes sure it’s the side that’s not injured. Their chests are touching, and their legs are one footfall away from tangling and tripping them up. He can’t find it in himself to care.</p><p>“I’m sorry, ‘kasshi.” Bokuto is so warm. “I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that. It was rude and selfish of me to demand something like that from you.”</p><p>“I should be the one saying sorry.” Akaashi retorts straight away. “I shouldn’t have said all those shitty things to you, and avoided you like that. I understand that you only wanted to look out for Akaa – for the good of the team. I was too caught up in my own head and didn’t listen to you. And I’m so, so sorry for everything I did. I don’t deserve you worrying about me.”</p><p>“No petty argument is going to stop me from worrying about you.” Bokuto says. His hand trails up and down his back, electricity sparkling all through his spine. “You can’t push me away anymore.”</p><p><em>I don’t want to push you away anymore</em>.</p><p>Bokuto is so genuine, so pure and good despite everything he has said and done to him as Akaashi Keiji. Bokuto is never going to give up because he is the constant in Akaashi’s life that will never leave him alone. Even when Akaashi Keiji himself is gone.</p><p>This isn’t something he’s ever had the luxury of experiencing before. His body becomes hollow with relief, light and floaty.</p><p>“Alright,” his voice shakes when he speaks, “I’m sorry, Bokuto-san, for worrying you so much. Let's... let's stop fighting like this now”</p><p>Bokuto visibly relaxes, leaning his head on Akaashi’s shoulder. Akaashi tells himself he gets the urge to close his eyes because he’s tired, not because it’s comforting to have Bokuto so close to him. “I’m so glad you said that, Akaashi. I’m so glad.”</p><p>“I’m sorry, Bokuto-san.” He says it again. He means it, and so much more. “F-for everything I did and everything I said to you. I’m sorry.”</p><p>“We can talk about it all later, yeah?” He sighs warmth into Akaashi’s shirt. “Do you… do you want to go get ramen together? We can talk about it then.”</p><p>Akaashi nods. Bokuto smiles against his neck, like he’s the happiest person in the world. And with Bokuto’s happiness, it feels like the world really does light up. The sunset turns everything into gold. Bokuto radiates in the centre of it all, holding Akaashi’s hands to drag him into the light.</p><p>In that moment, Akaashi feels his heart skip a beat.</p><p>--</p><p>The human body has limitations to what it can endure, and for how long, before it collapses. Akaashi's body has slowly but surely reached that point. Not even mild insomnia can keep up with nightly unit missions. Sustaining injuries doesn’t help either, even if a quick visit to the med-bay in at an Operative base can fix it up.</p><p>But it's affecting other aspects of his daily life too. He finds himself losing focus in class, dozing off in the library, or miscalculating a toss. He's a little more forgetful with his things, leaving books in classrooms or clothes in the locker room.</p><p>The consequences of his declining condition can be nasty. He learns the hard way, when he's staring at Akaashi's parents stood inside his own apartment. An unread message waits on his phone from his mother, announcing that they'll be visiting him later in the day.</p><p>Akaashi Yuuko and Akaashi Keita are lawyers. They’ve been working all over Asia for a variety of clients. To the rest of the world, they’re the definition of a ‘power couple’ – a pair of hard-working people as in love with their job as they are with each other. No one knows they’ve abandoned their only child in order to maintain that untouchable image.</p><p>They pay for the apartment their son currently resides in. It's cheap enough that nobody will ever associate Akaashi Keiji's name with the Akaashi lawyers. They provide him with enough money to keep him out of their hair, and Akaashi has always detested that he needed to rely on them to get by as a med student.</p><p>They never abused him, but they never loved him either. They made sure he never brought attention to himself, so that nobody knew he was connected to them. <em>Having the same last name was a mere coincidence</em>, was what his mother used to tell him to say. <em>Akaashi Keiji has no affiliation to the country’s most famous lawyers.</em></p><p>They want nothing to do with one another. They remember Akaashi Keiji’s existence when they think it high time to remind him to stop bringing attention to himself.</p><p>“You’re looking youthful, Mother.” He says with no sincerity in his tone, slipping his shoes off at the entrance. “Father, you’ve gotten yourself a new suit.”</p><p>The glare he receives from Akaashi Yuuko is dagger sharp. She’s not one for idle conversation, whilst Keita was always the one to butter-up their clients. But now, he remains silent.</p><p>“You got into a <em>fight?</em>” Yuuko gets straight to the point of their unwarranted visit.</p><p>Their son winces, recalling the yakuza drug deal he interrupted, and the girl he saved. Seems like word has travelled far enough that even Yuuko has caught word of it. “There was a person being robbed, and I merely stepped in to help them.” He offers them the story he's spread instead. A little white lie, where a nameless student saved a poor girl from a purse-snatcher. Cliche, but it worked.</p><p>Yuuko scoffs with a roll of her eyes. Her mascara is flecking off onto her cheekbones. “Of course, what a kind boy.”</p><p>His gaze hardens. “Why are you here?”</p><p>“Because, <em>son</em>, there’s been enough rumours going around to reach my entire office. About a little university boy who fought against not one, not two, but <em>three</em> yakuza on his own.” Yuuko hisses. She has the same eyes as her son, viridian green and blue. They’re seething with an anger that his own strive to suppress.</p><p>“Your name is the one that’s coming up in these rumours, and I want to hear an explanation as to what the hell you were thinking getting yourself involved with the yakuza, of all people.” It’s unfortunate that he wasn't able to stop every true rumour from spreading.</p><p>Yuuko’s arms are crossed tight, her jaw clenched. She reminds him of a Taskforce instructor he had; the meanest, most vile one of them all.</p><p>“I just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.” He explains, monotone. “I heard something I shouldn’t have, and when I tried to get away, they saw me. I was defending myself.”</p><p>Yuuko sighs, and he expects her to say something like ‘you should’ve let yourself get beaten to the ground’. Her expression speaks for itself.</p><p>“I didn’t go to the police, because I was afraid to put even more attention on myself, and give the yakuza gang more incentive to attack me again.” He concludes with a sigh. He can senses an oncoming headache.</p><p>He read text messages about what their son wrote about his parents to the few who listened. Bokuto was one of them. Hesitant messages full of memories, of a child stuck at home all alone when his parents went abroad. A boy who struggled in school, called a disappointment when he failed to meet impossible expectations. Hiding from their reprimands, pretending to sleep through shouting matches. Akaashi Keiji's childhood wasn't a happy one.</p><p>He feared his parents as much as he respected them, as much as he still yearned for their love and approval. It's fucked up, but sometimes, when a child knows nothing else, they go to the person who hurt them, with a not-yet-lost hope to receive their love.</p><p>“Is that all you came here to say?" He asks with a tilt of his head, expression sharp like his mother's glare. "Calling me would’ve been much easier, I could’ve explained everything over the phone. You didn’t need to spare me with your unwanted presence.”</p><p>He expects the wide-eyed, open-mouthed expression of shock from both of Akaashi’s parents. In any other situation, he would have laughed out loud. Akaashi Keiji would never talk back to his parents – he didn’t <em>dare</em> to even think anything bad about them.</p><p>Like host, like Time Operative – that was the inside joke among special agents. The coincidental occurrence when an agent acts like their host. Sometimes though, it’s good not to be the same as them.</p><p>“I have assignments to do. If you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to do them in peace.” He points to the door. “I’m not going to pretend like I want you to stay for any longer. Goodbye.”</p><p>Keita is sputtering, whilst Yuuko’s face has botched red where her makeup doesn’t conceal her skin. “You <em>dare</em> speak to your parents like this!? Who is it that pays for your expenses? Who pays for your tuition?”</p><p><em>And who’s the one with the offshore bank accounts?</em> He would’ve retorted. “Who’s the one carrying your name and your blood in them?”</p><p>He could take this situation and roll with the rumours. He could admit that Akaashi Keiji is the abandoned son of the powerful Akaashi lawyers, a child neglected his whole life. People would eat it up. He could end their careers and bury their reputation into the ground if he wanted to. Unlike their son, he isn’t tied down by a yearning for familial love. The only reason he won’t do it is the extra attention it will bring to him, and make his work that much harder to do.</p><p>They know it too. “Akaashi Keiji, you’re a disgrace.”</p><p>He chuckles, a laugh with an edge and no humour. “I’m well aware, Mother. But your disgraced son would like you to leave now.”</p><p>He watches them put their polished shoes on, grab their overpriced jackets, and open the door.</p><p>“Please don’t visit me again like this.”</p><p>His mother doesn’t spare him another glance. His father hesitates at the door, giving him one last look of utter disappointment.</p><p>“This isn’t like you, son.” He frowns. Akaashi Keiji may have the same eyes as his mother, but he gets his facial features from his father. They give Akaashi Keiji a gentle appearance, but Akaashi Keita just looks like a man with many secrets to hide. “I hope you think about the consequences of your actions, Keiji. Don’t let something like this taint our family name.”</p><p>“Goodbye, Father.” He slams the door right in his father’s face. The door handle is sharp with cold, his grip on it so tight his knuckles turn white.</p><p>He hopes they stay away. Out of everyone in the world, these are two worst people imaginable to be spying on his every move. He will need to be more careful from now, otherwise he'll be dealing with more than just a family scandal.</p><p>He'll be hunted for blood if they find out he's from the future.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>
  <strong>OMAKE</strong>
</p><p>Summer break was greeted at the beach. The seaside izayaka was crowded by evening time, with the volleyball team as one of the many patrons there. The awkwardness of understanding new dynamics faded when the alcohol in their systems pushed shy barriers into the sea.</p><p>Inside, the bar was humid, with clothes stuck to heated backs and faces flushed by drink. When it got too stuffy, they all stumbled out of the bar and onto the sand to dip their toes in the water.</p><p>Bokuto Koutarou laughed when the cold waves lapped at his ankles. Through the giddiness of alcohol, he spotted one teammate further away from the rest. Akaashi Keiji was the newest first-year on the team, and everybody thought he was something of an enigma. He was subdued and shy, but in a way that made him mysterious and unapproachable rather than calm and cool.</p><p>His sets were something else though. He matched up to each teammate like he was individually tailored for them. With a bit more practice, he could be one of their regulars. </p><p>And maybe, if he socialised more, he wouldn't be so reclusive. Some members whispered about Akaashi. Sometimes, Bokuto overheard them, and he couldn't help but disagree.</p><p>He didn't see Akaashi like that. He wasn't someone aloof and cold. There was so much emotion hiding behind his eyes. In reality, Akaashi Keiji just struggled to fit in among new people. Boktuo wanted to see what he hid beneath that tough-shell exterior. </p><p>The shore was bathed by the light of nightlife, illuminating the sand in faint orange and yellows. The evening was perfect to spend with friends. But for Akaashi, not even the faint buzz of alcohol in his system helped him gain the confidence to invite himself into their circle. Instead of joining everyone else splashing in the water, he stood on the sidelines.</p><p>So Bokuto reached out instead.</p><p>"If you're afraid of the water, you can hold my hand, Akaashi-kun!" He called to the first-year, holding out his hand.</p><p>Akaashi flinched at the sound of his name, surprised to be spotted in the darkness. He stuttered, unsure of what to say, his mind in too much disbelief that someone spoke to him first. Especially someone like Bokuto Koutarou who lit up any room he entered. Radiating with buoyancy, hyperactive and playful, and so, so talented at volleyball.</p><p>The first time Akaashi saw him on the court, he knew he was looking at a star.</p><p>With a shy step forward, Akaashi took Bokuto’s hand.</p><p>Not far away, Konoha took out his phone to record Washio and Onaga splashing in the water. But in drunk and unstable hands, the phone camera strayed from its subject, pointing at the two teammates further away. It was an innocent moment, caught on blurry film, not something worth looking back on, except to laugh at Konoha's filming skills.<br/>On Konoha's smartphone, the moment Bokuto and Akaashi first spoke was recorded. Eventually, that video was stored into a file, put together many, many years in the future.</p><p>When Bokuto noted Akaashi's hand was a tad bigger than his, the Time Operative inspecting that old recording saw the spark that travelled between them. When their fingers intertwined like they belonged together, the Time Operative caught the moment when Bokuto realised his fascination surrounding Akaashi Keiji was something more than just innocent curiosity.</p><p>It was the moment Bokuto began falling in love.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The number of times I have deleted, rewritten, deleted and rewritten this chapter alone is driving me up the wall. I really hope it turned out well. Originally this story was supposed to be 3 chapters, but by 23k words halfway into chapter 2, I realised I needed to split it up, otherwise it would be even longer than it already is… so four chapters it is (for now)...</p><p>
  <strong>Additional chapter warnings: Attempted sexual assault, violence (this is where that graphic violence tag comes in), and drinking (uh lets pretend the legal drinking age is 19 in japan, not 20... i forgot i'm so sorry)</strong>
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    <p>The Mech. Operative station offers a training facility on the third floor of the library base. The third floor is well-ventilated, dusty windows cloaked in holographs so nobody can see through them. It mostly caters to Warriors, for combat practice, or any agent who feels like their self-defence skills have gotten rusty. 21<sup>st</sup> century sports equipment, like treadmills, boxing gear, and weights, are placed neatly in each corner. The centre of the room is designed into something like a fighting ring, allocated for close-combat practice and close-range weapon training.</p><p>The third-floor training facility is probably Akaashi’s favourite section in HQ, if you exclude Kenma’s office. It helps keep his skills sharp and his instincts alert, and lose himself in the rituals of muscle-memory executions. Work, reports, exams, and parents breathing down his neck get lost in the rhythm of cross-uppercut-jab-cross strikes.</p><p>It feels weird to look <em>down </em>at the headless boxing dummy. It looks about the same as how it did in the future, except now it's smaller. He forgets Akaashi Keiji is considered tall - he forgets <em>he</em> is tall. Hanging around people like Bokuto or Washio on the volleyball team, who tower over the team, warps his judgement. He has to hit the dummy at a lower angle now, striking a jab, then a body cross, and a lead hook to the neck with his knees bent more.</p><p>Balancing life as Akaashi Keiji and as a Time Operative has been a long adjustment period, one he can’t declare that having surpassed yet. Or one he may never overcome. But this, somewhat comfortable, stagnancy isn’t so bad either. His days consist of the same routine; complete missions, go to class, then practice volleyball, sleep (if he's lucky) and repeat. With more agents in the 21<sup>st</sup> and new operations to delegate, little time is left for much else.</p><p>The Taskforce is preparing for a major historical event. Initially, it was projected to occur in one year’s time, but with alterations in the present, it's predicted to happen three months from now.</p><p>It isn’t strange for these types of changes to occur. Time Operatives are here to alter the future, these types of changes in the timeline are a positive sign. If nothing changes, and history repeats like predicted, then that means the agents have done something very, very wrong.</p><p>(Most of the time though, incidents are pushed further into the future. They shouldn’t be occurring closer to the present. <em>That’s</em> the strange part.)</p><p>Akaashi dodges, bending lower than he’s used to, then follows the sequence with two cross punches. He hits the dummy’s hollow torso, rough impact muted by the bandages around his knuckles. They grow loose easily from the sweat on his palms – and he's never been able to wrap them around his hands quite tight enough. Wiping off the perspiration from his temple, he decides to call it a day.</p><p>The bandages slip off and he tosses them away whilst ambling towards the staff room - or what was once a staff room in the library, now acting as a locker room for the training facility. Unfortunately, there are no showers, but Akaashi always goes straight home after working out so it isn't an issue. He changes into a hoodie, and catches the last train to his district.</p><p>The carriage is empty enough that Akaashi feels safe enough to allow his consciousness to wander. He mentally reviews his form from training, taking note of what to improve on. Stress-relief may be one of the benefits of working out for his well-being, but he needs to push himself more - make this body stronger, capable of running for longer, of fighting harder.</p><p>Their restructured missions have led to an increased workload. If he owned a physical calendar, it would be marked full of upcoming missions, exam dates, along with a countdown to Akaashi’s summer course entrance assessment. At least his host’s insomnia is able to handle the all-nighters.</p><p>The high-stake jobs are another reason for his ever-more-frequent training. He needs to protect his host – <em>to protect himself</em> – from getting injured, or worse. He can’t allow a slip-up like the one with the yakuza to happen again. Sure, he can stitch himself up, or take a trip to the med bay when he needs it, but it isn’t something to make a habit out of – keep fighting to a minimum where possible.</p><p>He needs to defend himself better. Agents aren't supposed to rely solely on the Warriors to protect them. Or wait for Hackers, like Kenma, to detect enemies before they attack.</p><p>However, there is one thing he’s apprehensive about.</p><p>Or rather, one <em>person</em> he worries for.</p><p>Since their fight, he's grown much closer to Bokuto, as if Akaashi's absence has done nothing but amplify Bokuto's feelings for him. Where did characters in fiction get the idea that distancing yourself from your crush would get rid of the feeling? Because from real life experience, all that is happening is the opposite.</p><p>It's not the outcome he wanted to produce. He needs to keep a subtle distance from Bokuto – not because he might compromise Akaashi’s cover but also – he could endanger Bokuto’s life too.</p><p>If rumours spread, if someone catches a whiff of something odd. If Akaashi’s parents get suspicious.</p><p>If he ever makes a vengeful enemy.</p><p>An unlikely scenario, but one every agent has to consider. Plenty of extremists stood against the Taskforce in the future. They were willing to destroy it – cost what it may to the world – so that the future remained unfixed.</p><p>Whether it means putting an end to Time Operatives or exposing the mission, those people will do anything, even if it means endangering the lives of innocent people.</p><p>But he can't seem to get himself to stay away from Bokuto.</p><p>Perhaps it's a selfish decision; one benefiting his unethical self-interest more than anything. Perhaps he wants to atone by salvaging the broken pieces of a complex, ordinary life he took. Atonement from who? He isn’t sure.</p><p>The train announces Akaashi's destination is next, so he shoves his sore body from the seat and prepares to leave. Nighttime obscures the other side of the door, reflecting his own appearance instead. Akaashi's hair is messy and his eyes are dark, with his hoodie exposing one collarbone, and basketball shorts don’t cover his knees anymore. His body has begun filling out though, thanks to training, and also that rigorous program Coach has put them on in volleyball.</p><p>No protruding ribs or spindly arms. No bulging eyes or white lips. He has a healthy body now.</p><p>The train gives a sudden lurch, almost sending Akaashi flying into the handrail. His duffle bag clinks against the metal so he moves it close to his side, hanging on tighter to keep his balance.</p><p>The little keychain attached to its zipper had hit the metal railing. It’s a tiny bird, cutified to the point where it’s become impossible to tell what type of bird it’s based off. The one he owns is black with white patches. Bokuto owns a matching keychain with an opposing colour scheme. He had insisted they buy the pair after a trip to the shopping district. Akaashi was too weak to fight against the kicked-puppy look Bokuto used against him.</p><p>Now though, he’s kind of glad Bokuto won him over, because the little creature is cute. It’s cute, and it always reminds him of the times he goes out with Bokuto..</p><p>With a sharp beep, the train doors slide open, and Akaashi steps off. It isn’t until he’s hopping up the escalator that he realises his lips have curved up because he was thinking about the time when he went to an arcade with Bokuto.</p><p>He can't even deny it to himself anymore.</p><p>It is an undisputed truth to say that Bokuto Koutarou has somehow crawled into whatever void replaced Akaashi Keiji's heart, fit himself in that desolate place, and called it home. Time Operatives should not allow that to happen. He never imagined that <em>he</em>, of all agents, would let it happen.</p><p>He crosses the road when the light turns green. Envisioning himself in the shoes of a defiant agent was never probable. Generating a scenario where he would have to be the one to remind himself of Protocol 1 has never occurred. Protocol 1 that states: The mission always comes first. It was always his motto.</p><p>He never imagined personal sentiments would intervene with his job.</p><p>Turning left, his apartment comes into view. He wonders when exactly he’ll get that eviction notice in the post. It’s about time to start searching for a place to stay, something within a reasonable price range – preferably within walking distance to university too.</p><p>The Time Traveller Taskforce of Special Operatives has five rules that are the basis of the organisation. They make up the core of what binds the Taskforce together. Devised by the Director, these rules are rooted into an operative’s very being. If a rule is broken, the Time Operative will have their consciousness forcibly overridden, and the host will be given to another agent.</p><p>To break Protocol is to sign your permanent erasure from this world.</p><p>Shovelling through his pockets, Akaashi finds his keys and recalls days spent reciting each rule to his instructors. He repeated them over and over again until they were satisfied, before he was allowed to move on to proper lessons as a Strategist.</p><p>The door closes with a creak, and he locks it straight away.</p><p>The rules are a pledge. It is a vow from them to create a prosperous future for the rest of humankind. Time Operatives give their lives to the Taskforce.</p><p>No agent can ever break this promise.</p><p>Akaashi would never break those rules. He cannot fathom when he would possibly <em>want</em> to disobey the Director.</p><p>To become an agent who disregards the chain of command? For him, it’s too far-fetched, implausible.</p><p>(And yet, when the time comes, Akaashi is willing to break every single rule of the Time Traveller Taskforce without hesitation.)</p><p>--</p><p>Summer replaces spring too quickly. Cloudless skies, tepid showers, and rising temperatures begin, with exam season rolling around. The university library never has a seat to spare. Some students have taken to sitting on the floor, squeezing between bookshelves and trolleys of returned books. Their stress is as palpable as the humidity in the air, undeterred by weak-powered aircons.</p><p>Bokuto has taken to studying with Akaashi instead going to extra practice. It’s obvious he would rather be on the court, spiking and serving and receiving, than stuck indoors with silence and textbooks.</p><p>But studying together is inconvenient - at least for Akaashi it is. Not because Bokuto distracts him or refuses to work - he's actually the opposite. It's the fact that Akaashi is essentially 'on duty' twenty-four seven that he can't get himself to unwind. He is on a constant lookout for a message from the Director or the Engineers at any point during the day.</p><p>He will drop everything, skip class, skip volleyball practice – whatever. He will leap from his chair right this instant and leave Bokuto behind if the Director orders him to do so.</p><p>The mission comes first. No matter what.</p><p>And that’s where the problem lies.</p><p>It shouldn’t matter what someone thinks when he bolts out of practice. It shouldn’t matter when Bokuto forces a smile and pretends like everything is fine after Akaashi cancels their plans.</p><p>It shouldn’t matter, and yet, it makes his seemingly unshakeable core waver.</p><p>The mission always comes first.</p><p>He never put anything else above it.</p><p>The Taskforce is more than just him. He is but a small sum of something this century could not even fathom. He’s a Strategist; programmed to be cold and calculated, with overwhelming intelligence. The intelligence system of the organisation, unrivalled by all but the Director. A prodigy.</p><p>He should know better than anyone else.</p><p>
  <em>The mission is always priority.</em>
</p><p>For the entirety of his life, that one phrase has repeated itself constantly. A broken machine, looping the same thing over and over. Impossible to unplug, and driving him closer to madness.</p><p>Protocol is the only thing that matters – the only reason they are in the 21<sup>st</sup> century is to save the future. The only reason they are given the privilege of even glimpsing at a not-yet-dead world.</p><p>Time Operatives should never forget that.</p><p><em>He</em> never forgot that. He never gave anything else a second glance.</p><p>Except now, Bokuto has come in, and Akaashi's rationale goes careening into a wall.</p><p>He peeks over his textbook. Half-slumped on the desk, Bokuto is leafing through what looks like the most boring economics textbook in existence.</p><p>Not long ago, he asked why Bokuto studied business when it was obvious he wanted to go into the pro-volleyball league. Bokuto explained, “It’s a backup plan, I guess. In case I don’t make it to the V-League. I need some way to make money to support myself and my family. Even if I’m not smart, I can memorise a load of jargon, and convince employers to hire me.”</p><p>“You <em>are</em> smart, Bokuto-san.” Akaashi had retorted, making Bokuto choke and flush bright red.</p><p>Bokuto is not from an affluent family. During the school semester, he lives in the university dormitories. During the break, he goes back to their little rented apartment in the northern city district. The main reason Bokuto can go to university is because he was awarded a sports scholarship in high school. Bokuto doesn’t like business and economics – he just feels like he has to do something that will help him get by, if volleyball is no longer an option in his life.</p><p>But Bokuto is hardworking and diligent. He’s driven to understand what he’s reading, even if it takes the entire night to do so. He commits to something until he gets it, whether it be a freakishly strong spike, or an economic theory.</p><p>It’s been five minutes since Bokuto last raised his head, and it doesn't look like he'll raise it any time soon. Akaashi concludes that it is high-time for them to finish up for the evening. Bokuto asleep right in front of him, scrunched nose, full lips shaped into a pout, is extremely distracting. He didn’t realise how much until an entire paragraph in his textbook is bright yellow, without any clue what he just highlighted.</p><p>Underneath the table, he nudges his shoe against Bokuto's calf. It's nothing but a gentle tap, but Bokuto startles awake, shooting up in his seat. The legs of Bokuto's chair scrape against the floor, earning glares from other students because of the loud noise. Akaashi is too busy muffling his chortling into his sleeve to care.</p><p>Bokuto has the decency to flush with embarrassment. His hair is a mess, halfway between sticking up and obscuring his vision. He looks like he woke up from a ten-hour nap. It’s strangely endearing. Akaashi wonders if Bokuto looks like that every morning when he wakes up. Drowsed with sleep, he pouts and rubs his fists against bleary eyes.</p><p>He is happy to agree with Akaashi when he suggests they go home for the night. Akaashi tidies their table whilst Bokuto goes to place his economics textbook in the business section. He sways back and forth on the balls of his feet, bag thrown over one shoulder, and scopes out the study area.</p><p>Only the scratch of pencils on paper, with the occasional shuffling feet, breaks the silence of academia. The flip of a page. The <em>click-click-click</em> of long nails on laptops and tablets. Muffled shouting from the baseball club outside. He listens to the heavy thump of boots on carpet flooring - until they come to a sudden stop, followed by a quiet gasp.</p><p>Akaashi whips around to find the source to find someone already staring at him. A sharp drop of icy horror plummets to his stomach when he realises this person is familiar.</p><p>Reddish-brown hair, thick square-framed glasses, and a distinct nose. It’s the girl that he saved from the yakuza a few weeks ago. She brightens with recognition and her mouth forms into the shape of an ‘o’ in surprise. Akaashi backs away, thigh bumping into the sharp edge of a desk, as she draws near.</p><p>He retreats into the library. Alarms blare in his mind when the girl follows him.</p><p>He cannot get caught speaking her. No doubt she will bring up their previous encounter, and people are going to listen in on it. Especially in a library, where whispers travel to every nook and cranny they find. And maybe even further, where they can reach Akaashi's parents once more. There is no knowing what they will do if they hear about this again.</p><p>He darts between shelves, archived sections, and different subjects crammed into one place. The library is a labyrinth, with shelves placed anywhere they find a gap of space. He bumps past other students, unheeding of their judgemental glares. He must look like he has lost his wits, powerwalking so fast. The entire time, a clack of boots follows.</p><p>Protocol 2: never jeopardise your cover.</p><p>Between the business section and the art corner is a dead end. Akaashi hides himself between the shelves and trolleys like a dumbass, but nobody is there to see it. He steels himself, hyper-focused on the sound of footsteps. They aren’t audible anymore, but is she really gone? What if she finds him? How is he going to get out without her seeing? Everything is tunnel-visioning. He doesn't hear the creak of a floorboard behind him until someone's breath hits his ear and scares the shit out of him.</p><p>“Akaashi, what are you doing?” Whispers Bokuto, perturbed by what is probably a look of frenzied panic on his face. “I thought you were waiting at the study area?”</p><p>Heavy boots draw closer.</p><p>Frantic and desperate, Akaashi sweeps through the surroundings, landing on a door he didn’t catch sight of before now.</p><p>Without a word, he drags Bokuto with him. “A-Akaashi, wha-what are-?”</p><p>“Please be quiet, Bokuto-san. This will only take a moment.” The supply closet swings open and Akaashi shoves Bokuto inside, squeezing himself in and shutting the door.</p><p>“Wh-what’s going to take a moment!?” Inside is more cramped than anticipated. A broomstick digs into Akaashi’s lower back. Their bags, thrown on the floor, become obstacles to trip over.</p><p>A hiss slips through Bokuto’s teeth when Akaashi stumbles into him, pushing them into the wall with enough force for something to fall. Akaashi steadies himself, failing to register the firm, sturdy surface his hands are on happens to be Bokuto’s chest. The only thing he can focus on is pressing an ear to the door and listening for his pursuer.</p><p>Nobody approaches the closet. The thump of Bokuto’s heart pounds against his palm. A faint scent of Bokuto’s clothes passes under Akaashi’s nose. He still can’t describe what it is, something fresh and clean. The smell is laundry detergent clinging to clothes, but there’s something more. Something wholly Bokuto makes him want to lean closer, and figure it out what is so enticing about it.</p><p>Akaashi’s imagination comes to a screeching halt with the terrible realisation he subconsciously moved closer to Bokuto’s neck. From the bottom of the doorway, light sneaks into the closet, just enough to outline Bokuto’s features, moments away from a meltdown.</p><p>“Bokuto-san, are you alright?” The question barely passes the decibel of a whisper. “Are you uncomfortable with confined spaces?”</p><p>“No, no I’m fine, it’s just…” he squeaks, eyes clamping shut like he’s terrified of looking at him, “well you’re kinda… really close? Not that I - not that I hate it but uh-”</p><p>Finally, Akaashi takes in their position. Their legs have tangled up in a poor attempt to avoid the cleaning supplies on the floor, one knee between Bokuto’s legs. His fingers spread out on Bokuto’s chest and Bokuto’s hands hover by his torso, close enough for their warmth to seep into his shirt.</p><p>Bokuto’s gaze flicks over him, eyes asking a wordless question Akaashi doesn’t understand, before two hands settle on his waist.</p><p>Akaashi’s entire body lights up, like a match struck on fire. Everything is warm, like wax around a wick, melting, melting melting...</p><p>Or – he would have melted, right here in the supply closet, into some huge liquid-y mess of a leftover candle. He would have - if his brain didn’t immediately reboot and kick into high gear.</p><p>Oh. Oh no. <em>Oh no</em>. Oh no <em>no.</em></p><p>There has been a misunderstanding. A very, very <em>bad</em> one.</p><p>Akaashi sputters, cheeks heating up. Bokuto believes this is… flirting? A proposition? A shift in their relationship?</p><p>Squirming out of Bokuto’s arms, he scrabbles backward until he hits the opposing wall. The broomstick falls over, clattering to the ground, and an empty bucket almost tips over.</p><p>“This isn’t-this-” What are you supposed to say in this situation? This isn’t what it looks like? <em>I’m not trying to make out with you in a closet, Bokuto-san? I just don’t want my cover blown and I’m sorry?</em> “I needed to – hide. From somebody.”</p><p>Goosebumps rise where Bokuto held him. His hand is still thrumming with the ghostly pulse of Bokuto’s heartbeat.</p><p>This was a colossal misunderstanding.</p><p>“Hide?” Bokuto mumbles, not yet caught up to the present.</p><p>Bokuto tends to get a certain look on his face when he is really engaged in something. Usually, it involves volleyball. Privately, Akaashi calls it Bokuto's ‘in the zone’ face. This look where his eyes, wide and shining and pure gold, turn sharp with knife-cutting focus. His attention is on the ball, and his sole focus is beating their opponent. A look that wants to devour you whole.</p><p>Being on the receiving end of that look is a terrifying thrill, sending shivers down Akaashi’s spine and tingles through his belly. He can’t imagine the sort of expression he has right now. Is he shocked? Angry? Afraid?</p><p>“S-sorry.” He says, inspecting his shoes. “I, uh, it was an emergency.”</p><p>“An emergency…” Bokuto repeats breathlessly. His 'in the zone' face disappears. “Oohkay then… um, – an emergency?”</p><p>“Yes.” They have an actual reason for being in this closet right now, his intuition prompts him. He listens for any noise, but it sounds like nobody is outside. He takes a peek. “Had to uh, hide from somebody.”</p><p>With the coast clear, Akaashi throws himself out of the closet, inhaling like it’s his first time breathing oxygen. Bokuto follows. His face is bright red.</p><p>They can’t meet each other’s eye.</p><p>“W-who were you hiding from, exactly?” Bokuto whispers, catching up to Akaashi as he flees out of the library.</p><p>The girl isn't anywhere between the shelves, nor is she waiting at the front entrance. They leave the building in peace.</p><p>“It was someone I’d rather avoid talking to,” he supplies as an answer, “I didn’t mean to drag you into this with me, but I wanted to avoid dealing with that person today.”</p><p>Instead, he has this mess to deal with. The one he created all by himself.</p><p>“Oh, okay then.” Bokuto exhales.</p><p>Akaashi chooses to ignore how Bokuto’s tone drops into something like disappointment.</p><p>They reach the park without noticing, too lost in their respective thoughts to talk. Or rather, Bokuto is daydreaming about things Akaashi would rather not visualise. Akaashi is wishing for the ground to open up and swallow him whole.</p><p>“I’ll uhm,” Bokuto clears his throat, “I’ll see you tomorrow?”</p><p>“Right. See you.” They go their separate ways.</p><p>His phone beeps with a message from the Director just as he reaches his apartment. Another task for the Strategists to do tonight. Akaashi rubs his temple, exhaustion weighing on his shoulders.</p><p>As tiring as missions may be, they're the reminder he needs right now. He has to stop getting distracted and follow Protocol.</p><p>But rules love to watch their subjects. They wait in anticipation to catch the moment they mess up. They want someone to disregard their duties, or throw their responsibilities away. They want to watch someone suffer the consequences of disobeying their command.</p><p>Out of all the rules, he never imagined Protocol 4 would ever apply to him. Protocol 4, which states forming romantic/sexual relationships in the 21<sup>st</sup> is forbidden. Unless these relationships were formed by the original host, Time Operatives are to refrain from involving themselves with other individuals. They are not allowed to reproduce offspring either.</p><p>From an outsider’s point of view, it may sound unfair – but the reality is, it’s necessary. Relationships are a liability, a danger to not only the agent, but the individual too. What if a Time Operative exposes themselves to their significant other and they don’t take it well? What if their secret gets exposed to the world? It’s too dangerous a gamble.</p><p>Akaashi cannot believe this rule applies to him now-</p><p>Except- <em>it doesn’t.</em></p><p>He isn't interested in Bokuto – <em>not like that</em>. Of course, you cannot deny that Bokuto is aesthetically attractive, with his bright grin and those honey-gold eyes that Akaashi could gaze into for hours and– <em>not the point</em> – he does not like Bokuto romantically.</p><p>But the brain is a fickle organ. It mixes things up, misreads reality. It thinks he’s the one receiving Bokuto’s affections. But that's not true. Bokuto sees Akaashi Keiji when he looks at him. He will always see Akaashi Keiji.</p><p>So, brains can mess that up - especially when you lose yourself in moments not meant for you. Like how people get horribly invested in a film and watch the character go through hardships, and live through those emotions – only to return to the real world and discover you aren’t there at all.</p><p>Sometimes, he needs to fall back to reality too; he doesn’t like Bokuto, and Bokuto is not in love with <em>him</em>.</p><p><em>Yeah.</em> He nods to himself. <em>That’s how it is.</em></p><p>--</p><p>An unforeseen alteration has set a butterfly mission off course. The Mech. Operative base is a mess. The original plan included slashing their targets car tires as an intervention so he would be obstructed from reaching a meeting with black-market dealers. But the entire mission has been thrown off by seven hours. They haven't gotten to the car, so they compromise. Akaashi sends Warriors out to create a minor car crash instead. No severe casualties occur, and the accident isn’t newsworthy either, but their target doesn't make it to that meeting.</p><p>Kenma talks the Warriors through Akaashi’s plan, whilst Akaashi communicates with the Healers. It was decided that Healers would go to the scene too, in order to ensure no unpredicted deaths would occur.</p><p>Protocol 3: A life is not to be taken, nor is it to be saved, unless previously ordered. Killing innocents and saving those predicted to die is forbidden. <em>Do not interfere with the natural order</em>. Messing with it can fuck everything up to the point where the future might not be able to help them.</p><p>With Healers at the scene, their mission suffers minor casualties. Nothing goes terribly wrong but...</p><p><em>It’s odd</em>, Akaashi contemplates, <em>that Engineers weren’t able to pick up on this change in the timeline.</em></p><p>A minor inaccuracy is common from time to time. The more of history they prevent, the more of future will change. Which is where Engineers are supposed to come in. They tell them about any information grown obsolete or inexact the more they change in the 21<sup>st</sup>.</p><p>He brushes it off as a slight error in the system. The Taskforce may rely on AI, but behind those machines are humans. No matter if they call themselves Engineers, Strategists, or Mechanics, mistakes can happen.</p><p>But the more often they keep happening, the more Akaashi’s suspicions rise.</p><p>More erroneous information spreads. Sometimes those mistakes almost cost them the mission. And sometimes, they fail entirely.</p><p>
  <em>It’s really, really odd.</em>
</p><p>--</p><p>He comes to the official conclusion that something strange is going on when he gets shot. It happens during a bank robbery intervention. In the Engineer’s brief, the robbers were never said to have any weapons, let alone guns. Akaashi was not wrong on this - in the future he had studied this case, <em>thoroughly</em>.</p><p>Protocol 3 forbids any agent from killing an individual unless it is part of the mission. Protocol 5 specifies that, when no orders are given, Time Operatives are to maintain their host's life.</p><p>If a Time Operative is thrown into a kill or be killed situation, but a rule forbids them from taking out their opponent, then what do they do? Does one rule cancel out the other?</p><p>It isn't some ground-breaking revelation. Plenty have asked that same question before. But it is his first time picking at the crux of what makes up the Taskforce.</p><p>In the event of an emergency, when a mission has gone south, Time Operatives are to do whatever they can to ensure their host does not die. In a moment of chaos, there is no time to wait for orders. Dying means losing a valuable host, and leaving the surviving agents to piece together an explanation for their death. If something is off, people will ask questions and dissect patterns for answers. The Taskforce cannot risk that.</p><p>The Bank of Japan is located near the Ginza shopping district. Its interior is a beautiful combination of cream-coloured marble and digitalised advertisements. The high ceilings have chandeliers sparkling overhead and the centre is a big open layout to eliminate friction caused by large queues. The design is simple and spacious enough to push a dozen hostages into a line curving like a crocodile.</p><p>One of the robbers kicks the back of his leg, sending Akaashi crashing to the stone floor with a reverberating thud. They put zip-ties around his wrists and a blindfold to cover his view. He flinches when a gun presses to his back, faking the fear in his whimpers.</p><p>Based on the brief, this was supposed to be a straightforward rescue operation. An important bio-engineer is predicted to die during the robbery and Akaashi’s unit is tasked with saving her life.</p><p>Everything starts off smoothly. Akaashi arrives with a small unit of Warriors, blending in with the crowd at the bank. Kenma acts as their all-seeing guide, listing off which emergency exits the robbers block off. He's back at the base, hacked into the bank’s security cameras.</p><p>Once the front gets closed off, Kenma pauses, and gasps sharply into the earpiece. “Wait, what the fuck – <em>they’ve got guns!</em>”</p><p>The first earsplitting gunshot shatters a chandelier in the centre of the ceiling. Shards of glass rain down on Akaashi's head, and people start to scream.</p><p>That's how they find themselves tied up and blindfolded, following their captors demands. The agents didn't bring any weapons with them, having deemed them unnecessary during the boardroom planning. <em>It's a simple strategy</em>, they said. <em>Get the target and escape</em>, they said.</p><p>Never is he going to listen to an Engineer's plan ever again. Mission planning and tactics are left to AI and Strategists for a reason. This is probably the stupidest mistake they have ever made.</p><p>He concentrates of eavesdropping into the robber's conversation not too far away. But over the sound of whimpers and cries coming from the hostages, they don’t share anything of value. Beside him is the bio-engineer they're tasked with rescuing. He knows because he made sure to put himself right beside her.</p><p>Footsteps stomp down the stairs not far away. Most likely a gang of them going to the underground safe to steal money.</p><p>He has a little gap between his blindfold and his nose which he can peek through. A pair of army boots stop over him and the bio-engineer. She's close to hyperventilating, her whimpers wet with mumbled pleading.</p><p>“Aren’t you a pretty thing?” Drawls a low voice.</p><p>The robber crouches close enough for Akaashi to get a whiff of his overpowering cologne.</p><p>Now, the robber is supposed to grab the bio-engineer and pull her to the other side of the hall where he assaults her. Then, she is meant to put up a fight, only to end up getting pushed down the stairs and breaking her neck during the fall. Akaashi is supposed to prevent that from happening.</p><p>It isn't Akaashi who is supposed to be grabbed by the back of his hair. It isn't him who is supposed to get dragged off.</p><p>
  <em>This just keeps getting worse and worse, huh?</em>
</p><p>He makes sure to make enough noise to alert the Warriors of what's going on. Kenma curses up a storm in his earpiece. Good thing it’s hidden right behind his ear where no one can notice. Especially because of how close the man gets to Akaashi's neck. He swallows down the bile that rises from his stomach.</p><p>The press of a pistol serves as the cold reminder of how wrong this mission has gone. He won't be able to punch his way out of this situation, or shoot the guy right where the sun doesn’t-</p><p>The Director wants everybody out alive – bank robbers included.</p><p>Akaashi isn’t sure if that is going to happen anymore.</p><p>A hand strokes along Akaashi’s back. He was supposed to dispatch the scumbag while he was in the middle of assaulting their target. But now, it's Akaashi's shirt getting tugged from his trousers, and he can do nothing but convulse with dirty disgust.</p><p>In combat, the window to escape your opponent's hold is a single second long - less when they have a weapon. He is going to have to make it count.</p><p>“You’re not so bad, are you? Pliant little thing.” Those are his last words before Akaashi jabs an elbow into his ribs. He uses as much strength as he can muster, zip-ties cutting the circulation of his wrists. The man flies off his back, keeling over with a groan.</p><p>"Pliant little thing <em>my ass</em>." Akaashi growls, yanking off the blindfold, and breaks the bands off his wrists.</p><p>Ge whirls around to restrain his attacker, and a gunshot blasts through the building. It rings in his ears, drowning out the terrified screams of hostages. Pain sears through his side like a vicious flame, blood wet on his clothes, but he ignores it. He lunges for the man, wrapping his arms around his thick torso, and knocks him into the wall.</p><p>It’s difficult to shoot in such a close-range fight – or at least, that's what Akaashi gambles on. The man punches Akaashi’s side, then strikes his wound, not trying to use his gun just yet. Static white blurs his vision, pain searing so hot his senses can’t process it. Like dipping your hand under boiling water so hot you mistake it as cold because pain receptors can’t register it fast enough. Except that sensation doesn’t go away, burning into his side and all the way to his ribs. Akaashi reaches for the robber’s wrist and tries snatch the gun from his grasp.</p><p>In the distance, more shots are fired. The Warriors have taken action with the other robbers. Akaashi drives his knee into the man’s crotch, and when he hunches over, hits the back of his neck with his elbow. His body falls to the floor with a horrible crack.</p><p>Gun loose, Akaashi snatches it up. He checks the magazine, counting the bullets left, and then points the barrel of the gun at the man's skull. Akaashi's ribs are definitely bruised, and blood won't stop seeping into his shirt. He tastes the tang of copper in his mouth as waves of dizzying nausea threaten to make him vomit.</p><p>When his opponent doesn't move, he naively assumes it to be over.</p><p>No sooner had Akaashi lowered the gun when the man leaps for him. There’s no time to pull the trigger, and his forearm is yanked down onto the ground. The two of them land in a heap, and Akaashi’s head knocks on the stone floor. The man’s piggish fingers try to seize the pistol.</p><p>Scrabbling for purchase on the safety grip, he tries to aim the gun. His opponent is too close for him to get a proper angle. He's going to blast off his own leg before managing to plug this bastard. Besides, the man isn't due to die today.</p><p>He could bet his consciousness the creator of contradicting Protocol 3 and 5 is rolling around in their grave. Or more likely, they're a pile of ash, blowing in the wind to create the letters ‘lol’. Waiting with excited hunger for somebody to finally mess up and break the rules.</p><p>So Akaashi gives the rules what they want, and shoots.</p><p>Blood bursts out of the robber’s collarbone, and Akaashi shuts his eyes moments before it spurts onto his face. The sickening smell of copper and gunpowder invades his nostrils. His attacker screams in pain, tumbling off Akaashi to clutch at his clavicle. Akaashi scoots away from his reach and struggles to get on his feet when his lungs wheeze.</p><p>Everything is spinning, and his legs wobble. Earlier, the cries of hostages sounded far away. Now it's like a window has opened up and the world is loud and clear in his ears. The wail of police sirens blares outside.</p><p>“You have to get out of there!” Kenma is shouting into the comms. “Get Keiji and go. Go!”</p><p>He wants to obey Kenma’s command, but none of his limbs cooperate. Time moves at a sloth's pace and his vision keeps swimming. The gunshot wound has yet to fully register to his senses, too confused and overwhelmed by the fight.</p><p>One of the Warriors in their unit, Uchimura Rei, rounds the corner. She catches Akaashi before he collapses, pulling one arm over her shoulder. There's a significant size difference between the two, but Uchimura has proven herself to be one of their strongest Warriors. She can bear the entirety of his weight whilst half-dragging half-carrying him to the emergency exit, located in the basement, where the other Warriors are waiting for them. Their expressions are ones of stoic calmness they’re trained to keep in times of a dire emergency.</p><p>It gets harder and harder to stay awake or pay attention to where they’re going. He makes the faint connection that they must be going to the escape vehicle, and he's proven right. The black jeep they used to get to the bank is where they parked it, and they all pile inside. Akaashi is laid in the backseat, Uchimura pressing on his wound the entire way to HQ, listening to a Healer's instructions through her comm.</p><p>(<em>Who the </em>fuck<em> told them not to bring a Healer to this rescue operation!?</em>)</p><p>Uchimura is informed to keep Akaashi conscious because he might have a concussion - on top of bruised ribs and a <em>gunshot wound</em>. Shit, it hurts so much. His brain seems to have finally caught up to his pain receptors. Uchimura talks him through breathing techniques in the hopes of alleviating the ache. Her voice is like an invariable monotone drone. No matter whether she's angry, upset, or happy, it always stays the same.</p><p>He listens to her drawl, holding her breath for seven, exhaling for five, inhaling for another five. When he manages to do it on his own, she briefs him on what the other's in their unit are doing. Tachibana is on call with another Time Operative currently at the crime scene. The police have arrived, with one Time Operative disguised as an officer. They’ll put the bio-engineer under a protection program with Time Operatives for the time being. Additionally, they’ll also ensure no traces of the Taskforce unit are found at the bank.</p><p>“That includes the pool of blood you left behind, Akaashi-san.” She jokes without a twitch of a smile on his lips.</p><p>Akaashi doesn't remember when they arrive to the base. The car door swings open so fast it makes him flinch, and Kenma's head pops through. “Keiji!”</p><p>"Move out of the way please, the Healers are coming through!" It's a type of chaos they rarely experience in the Taskforce.</p><p>Healers surround him on all sides, hauling him onto a stretcher. Akaashi hisses when the movement aggravates his injury as they push him through the building. Scenery of a plain grey ceiling passes by, full of cobwebs and glaring lights. Kenma follows them all the way to the med-bay.</p><p>One Healer injects him with sleep-inducing painkillers. Another forces a pill down his oesophagus. The haze of sleepiness mixed with the nauseating pain of a gunshot wound makes him gag. Kenma's visage is hard-set and focused, zeroing in on what needs to be done, no trace of anxiety on his features. Akaashi is a little proud that he's capable of remaining concentrated in the current situation. Even if it’s less than ideal.</p><p>He tries to tell him that, but he isn’t sure if his mouth actually moved. His lips are turning numb.</p><p>"None of your vitals were hit." Kenma divulges. "You'll be fine, Keiji."</p><p><em>I know I will, you're right here,</em> he wants to say. The sedatives have settled in fast. He can barely even blink anymore. Kenma slips a hand around Akaashi's fingers. It’s going to come away caked with Akaashi's blood, but he doesn't seem to care.</p><p>He doesn't let go until they arrive to the surgery room.</p><p>"Healers only past this point, Kozume-san, please wait outside until we finish." The chief Healer forbids Kenma from entering, and for a second, he looks like he wants to argue with her. But reason wins over emotion and Kenma lets Akaashi go.</p><p>More syringes stab his body, but he no longer feels them. He knows someone is tugging at his bloodied skin, and a Healer is prying the bullet out of his body, but he can't feel anything anymore. Only the phantom sensation of warmth from Kenma's hand where it was wrapped around his fingers.</p><p>Finally, he goes under.</p><p>--</p><p>“The Taskforce system is being tampered with.” Kenma states.</p><p>Three days have passed since the rescue operation fell into absolute shambles. Akaashi is recovering quickly. Their Healer force is capable, his wound closed up before surgery even finished. Now all that's left is a rather ugly bruise. There will be scarring in the area because he required stitches, but it isn't something to care about. They have more important issues to deal with.</p><p>"What can we do about it?" Straight-to-the point Uchimura Rei asks. Her host is a mother of three, and she constantly glances down to her watch as the clock ticks closer to six o'clock. She needs to pick up her children from the daycare centre soon, and can't risk coming late.</p><p>“Unfortunately, we can’t do much.” Says Kenma. He has bags under his eyes.</p><p>Every available agent squeezed themselves into the conference room this evening for a meeting called by the Hackers after contacting the future. Kenma switches on a hologram image of the information sent by Engineers to the present, explaining the details. “From our end, at least, there isn’t anything to do other than wait for the Engineers to fix the system.”</p><p>"We have to be cautious." Adds Sero Natsuki, the other Hacker in their base. "Double-check information about your tasks. Send any updates my way - don't care how big or small - every detail and inaccuracy goes through the Hackers or Strategists. Keep ahead of them, and re-examine your mission if it looks too dangerous to go into."</p><p>"I'll be out of commission for the next week, I guess." Akaashi raises his hand to gain their attention. "I'll still work from the base so I’ll stay on comms and be on-call if anyone needs it. But go to the other Strategists if you need them for any practical work."</p><p>They go on to discuss mishaps from previous missions, errors in their data, and checklists that don't add up to the Director's orders like they should. It's an hour and a half later when they adjourn the meeting.</p><p>As everyone files out, Akaashi tilts back in his chair to stare at the ceiling. Stretching makes his injury prickle, but it isn't earth-shattering agony. Once the other agents are gone, only Kenma and Akaashi remain.</p><p>“Do you need your wound checked?” Kenma asks whilst pulling the band from his hair to let it fall around his face. He once explained it was comforting to him when his hair covered his face. It eased his anxiety when it felt like the world was watching him.</p><p>“No, I’ll be fine. See?" Akaashi lifts the hem of his t-shirt, showing the ugly bruise left behind. To the untrained eye, it looks awful, but every agent knows it’s healing itself from the inside. They can fix anything with some blood-clotting solution.</p><p>Kenma grimaces, but it doesn't look like he has a genuine aversion to the sight of the wound. Both have seen much worse than a bruise.</p><p>Neither has brought up the incident yet, although, not a lot of observation is necessary to know that Kenma feels guilty about it. He feels responsible for what happened, so he takes care of him how Akaashi did with him. Their roles are reversed now.</p><p>As he has learned, Akaashi likes taking care of his friends. He enjoys making coffee for Kenma, ensuring he eats after hours spent staring at a screen. Helping his friends, even with little gestures, is Akaashi’s way of showing he cares, without having to say it.</p><p>Kenma is quiet. So much so, Akaashi wondered whether Kenma even liked him at first. He isn’t one for conversations, or affection, but that in itself is his way of appreciating their friendship. And their light banter gives off the illusion that they’re just ordinary students.</p><p>The Taskforce demands so much from Hackers. They are the backbone of the organisation, the direct reciprocators of messages from the future, messengers of the now and the later.</p><p>But Akaashi - he doesn’t ask anything from Kenma. And that is why Kenma likes to be with him. Kenma is comfortable around him, enough to be quiet in a little world of their own. He likes to sit on the couch in his office, Akaashi by his side, playing a videogame. Sometimes, he likes reading from Akaashi’s book with him.</p><p>Whatever they have isn’t conventional by any means. They are only able to meet at Taskforce bases. They can’t communicate or give any hint of knowing each other. But for them, it works.</p><p>Neither is keen on deep, thoughtful conversations, especially if it involves opening up about their feelings. But if it means soothing the ache of guilt swallowing Kenma up, then Akaashi is willing to try.</p><p>“It’s not your fault, you know?” Akaashi says. “You couldn’t have possibly known that those robbers would have guns.”</p><p>“I should’ve known.” Kenma retorts. “I was on cams the whole time, watching it all go down - and I still didn’t see it. Not until they started shooting at the ceiling.”</p><p>“Kenma.” Akaashi cuts him off. “You couldn’t have known. They were hiding their weapons, and not even the Engineers saw it coming. If anything, it’s my fault for attacking the bastard.”</p><p>“How could you not attack him when he was assaulting you!?” Kenma visibly shudders, arms crossed over his chest. “I just… I did nothing but sit on my ass back here and, and watch you fighting for your life. I feel so… useless, Keiji. I have all the information I could ever want right at my disposal, and none of it helped me the moment I needed it most.”</p><p>Akaashi rises from of his seat with minimal effort. Kenma doesn’t look at him.</p><p>“I failed you, Keiji.”</p><p><em>Not possible</em>, Akaashi wants to retort. But he waits and listen.</p><p>“I-I couldn’t do anything but watch you bleeding out and – and <em>dying!</em>"</p><p>“I wasn’t dying, Kenma.” He says. “I knew the Warriors were there, and I heard you ordering them to drop everything and help me.”</p><p>He settles a hand on Kenma’s shoulder, letting him lean into it. “You say you didn’t help me, but weren’t you doing what you could to help my dumbass? You’re still the reason I got saved, you know.”</p><p>Akaashi's words fight to get through Kenma's spiralling thoughts, to convince them he isn't at fault - <em>Keiji is fine, he's right here, and he won't be going anywhere. </em>He is here to stay, whether Kenma will appreciate his annoying personality or not.</p><p>“Wanna go to the café down the road?” Akaashi asks, squeezing to gain Kenma’s attention.</p><p>“We shouldn’t be seen out together.” Is the weak reply received, a pout visible under the curtain of hair covering Kenma's face. “The rules say we can’t associate with one another outside of missions or HQ.”</p><p>For the first time since he’s arrived to the 21<sup>st</sup>, he wants to say <em>screw the rules</em>.</p><p>“Then, how about we act like we don’t know each other?” Akaashi prompts, tugging on kenma's wrist to get him out of the conference room. “Let’s play a game where we pretend like we don’t know each other.”</p><p>That earns him a bemused smile, and Akaashi knows he’s won. “Sure, why not, I guess.”</p><p>Sneaking out of the base, they commute at a distance from each other on the streets, pretending to be strangers. If anyone observed, it would be obvious they weren't. Akaashi keeps throwing smirks at Kenma behind him in the queue. Kenma sticks his tongue out in retaliation – and scowls in disgust when he Akaashi orders a cold-brew coffee with no sugar or milk.</p><p>It’s an innocent little trip, but it is something they have never done together, as friends, not agents, and they fall into it eagerly.</p><p>Behind paper straws, they fail to restrain their laughter as they slip back into HQ. Making their way to Kenma's little office, other agents throw them disconcerted glances with raised brows. If nobody knew, it would be so easy to mistake these two as normal kids.</p><p>The office has more furniture since the last time Akaashi was there, a new desk installed for Akaashi to use, and even a sofa bed in the corner. The place is close to becoming a second home - not just for Kenma, but Akaashi too.</p><p>(It doesn’t hurt that Kenma never hesitated to splurge a dead rich man’s offshore investments.)</p><p>A trip to the café won't magically fix what lies beneath the floorboards – Kenma's bubbling insecurities, and Akaashi's desperation to achieve perfection. But it can put a band aid on the cut.</p><p>The rest of the evening is spent working. Analysis reports need to be logged into the system, a review article has to be set up of different strategies for upcoming missions. It's easy to get distracted. Kenma sips obnoxiously loud on the ice in his caramel coffee to rile Akaashi up enough so he tells him to shut the hell up.</p><p>It doesn't take long after for work to get pushed aside in favour of talking. They talk about things unrelated to the Taskforce. Kenma talks about when he visited an art gallery with Kuroo recently. Akaashi talks about his professor, giving them piles of coursework before summer break.</p><p>A comfortable silence has settled once the digital clock reads midnight. Kenma <em>tap-tap-tap</em>s away on a game console whilst waiting for message responses from other agents about missing checklists. Akaashi is multi-tasking on his own report, and skimming over a textbook to prepare for summer exams.</p><p>His phone flashes with a message, taking Akaashi’s attention away from studying, even if he already knows who it's from. Every night, Bokuto spams his phone full of messages and cute emoji's he can't quite figure out and tonight is no different.</p><p><strong>[Bokuto; Saturday, 12:23PM]</strong>: <em>heyyyy kaashi,</em> <em>dont forget to eat and hydrate between ur study sessions (</em> <em>o=^•</em><em>ェ</em><em>•)o</em> <em>┏━┓</em></p><p>
  <strong>[Bokuto; Saturday, 12:23PM]</strong>
  <em>: oh and make sure you take breaks! dont overwork and sleep early tonight </em>
</p><p>
  <strong>[Bokuto; Saturday, 12:24PM]</strong>
  <em>: goodnight and sleep well when you do akaashi (</em>
  <em>～﹃～</em>
  <em>)~zZ</em>
</p><p>As a joke, Boktuo sometimes called himself Akaashi's own personal assistant because he always tells him to rest and eat and take it easy when he’s been 'working hard to pass his exams' and 'studying to get into the summer course'.</p><p>("Yes," Akaashi coughs nervously, "that's exactly what I'm doing, Bokuto-san.")</p><p>Kenma doesn't comment on how Akaashi smiles at his phone. But he shoots him a certain look which is enough of a response in itself. Akaashi’s face twists into something between a glare and a brow raised to challenge him. He receives an eye roll in return.</p><p>The threat of a Taskforce system tamper looms over their heads. But at the very least, Akaashi has Kenma by his side to let him pretend he’s just an ordinary student, even if it's for a little while.</p><p>--</p><p>Coach ends evening practice early, clapping to gain everyone's attention. They finish their 10-minute post-practice stretches and gather around. Excitement buzzes around the gym, whispers of rumours rushing through the court.</p><p>Word is, the volleyball club will be holding a training camp during summer break. Coach proves the gossip to be true, confirming that their team will attend it. And this year, they will be joined by other university teams too. The name of Kenma's university is included in the list.</p><p>The club members will stay at a boarding house right beside the training grounds, working their asses off every day, from morning to evening. The training camp is going to be held on the second week of summer break. Akaashi's summer course is going to be during the first week. It all falls perfectly into schedule.</p><p>Excitement rushes through his limbs and he can't seem to stay still. He will finally be able to see Kenma - outside of work. The ideal chance meeting for them.</p><p>They’ll get a chance to be normal.</p><p>Finishing his announcement, Coach dismisses them for the day. Everyone is quick to scramble to the locker rooms, shower and change. Friday afternoon greets them with a peach-coloured sunset, and an impromptu plan to go for drinks, moods brightened from the news. Akaashi finds himself fitting right in with them.</p><p>On the train ride to town, conversations thrum with hushed excitement. Konoha searches up details on the boarding house where they'll stay - it's a traditional home, big enough to fit all the volleyball teams. The training grounds are right beside it, and a restaurant is connected to the accommodation. It offers discounts to residents in the boarding house.</p><p>Hopping off at their station, they make their way to the first of what will be many bars tonight. When Akaashi's phone buzzes in his pocket, he tries not to be disappointed at the prospect of having to leave his friends for work.</p><p>However, reading the contents of the message, he almost does a double-take. It's an email notification from the summer programme. <em>Congratulations Akaashi-san!</em> It reads. <em>After reviewing your application and test scores, we are delighted to announce you have been selected to attend our course this summer.</em></p><p>A breathy chuckle escapes from his chest. Bokuto notices him lagging behind the group, and waits so he can catch up. "Whatcha reading?"</p><p>Akaashi looks up. Twilight creeps in, and illuminates them in an amber glow. "I got accepted into the medical training programme." He announces, voice soft with disbelief.</p><p>(He did not give it as much dedication as the previous Akaashi would have. He didn’t anticipate passing those exams.)</p><p>“For real?” Bokuto beams with sugar-white sparks in his eyes. “That’s- <em>Akaashi!</em> That’s great news!”</p><p>An arm slings over Akaashi's neck, squeezing him into a one-sided hug until his lungs ache. The rest of the group overhears and they cheer, having even more reason to celebrate.</p><p>Drinking isn't something he is particularly fond of, nor does he want to get stuck with inebriated friends. Intoxication risks losing inhibition, and lost inhibition risks revealing things he shouldn’t. But today, he doesn't mind it. His body is all fluttery and floaty. But in a pleasant way. Maybe similar to how it would feel if alcohol seeped into his bloodstream.</p><p>The izayaka is stuffy with summer's approaching heat, magnifying the sensation of being full and warm from a glass of beer. It's pleasant.</p><p>The night goes on and, as expected, they parade through the bars. Konoha takes blurry photographs of their teammates, howling with laughter when Sakurui spills a cocktail on his new shirt. Washio is red to his neck, yet still accepts it when Komi challenges him for another round of shots. They're all too drunk to notice Akaashi throw all his drinks into the fake plant behind them.</p><p>Bokuto is by his side the entire night, and he gets more and more affectionate as it goes. He rubs his nose into Akaashi's collar, nuzzling like a cat. Konoha takes a photo, and he can see how red his own face is. It’s convenient that nobody knows he's not drunk.</p><p>When they finally call it quits, they stumble through the city, ending up at an arcade open 24/7. Bokuto tries to win a plushie from a claw machine. Komi tries to beat Sakurui on the dance game-machine, but they're so intoxicated, they miss half the steps. Both of their scores are terrible.</p><p>At the claw machine, Bokuto gets moody when he can't win the toy. His coordination - usually excellent - has frayed from too much 'falling down juice', as he calls it. Clouds of gloom settle over his head and he pouts. Washio tries to console him, patting his back so hard Bokuto almost falls headfirst to the floor.</p><p>Akaashi decides to try win the plushie for Bokuto instead. Wordlessly, he throws in some yen. Claw machines are like the training simulations in the future - the ones where you had to disable a bomb. Precision is key.</p><p>By the third failed attempt, he realises these games are rigged. On the fifth, Bokuto is dragging him away from the machine and out of the arcade, hiccupping with laughter the whole time. “I didn’t know you got so riled up – you never want to try those machines.”</p><p>“And this experience is another reminder as to why.” He says flatly, readjusting his clothes with a huff when Bokuto lets go. “You kept looking at that owl plushie, so I wanted to get it for you.”</p><p>“O-oh, I, well…” Bokuto’s stammers, cheeks getting impossibly redder. “T-that’s sweet of you, Akaashi. But I, well, I wanted to… get it for you… because, the owl kind of reminded me of you.”</p><p>A woman behind them almost crashes into Akaashi when he freezes in the middle of the street and an overwhelming sensation of fondness rushes through him. Is he okay? Is Akaashi's body going into shock? He isn't sure he likes this reaction. "Oh. That's... oh."</p><p>Akaashi puts a hand to his own cheek, as red and warm as his drunk friends, even though he hasn't taken a single sip of alcohol.</p><p>"That's very... sweet of you, Bokuto-san." He says breathlessly.</p><p>It’s like he's in the middle of a simulation again, attempting to disable a bomb. The wires are a mess, and cutting the wrong one will set the entire thing off. Just when he thinks the correct wire was cut, his feet tangle in more of them. Explosives surround him, some ticking slowly, others ticking quickly. Some are cut, only for others to start a countdown in their stead. It is impossible to escape, and impossible to stop.</p><p>No matter how bad he wants to deny it, he can't ignore the way something starts fluttering inside his tummy when Bokuto is around. It only happens with him. He doesn't quite know what it means. He isn't sure he wants to put a name on it.</p><p>(Not now, not ever.)</p><p>All because of a boy in love with his host.</p><p>
  <em>Shit, I can’t keep forgetting that. </em>
</p><p>He can’t forget it – Bokuto Koutarou is in love with Akaashi Keiji.</p><p>
  <em>Not me.</em>
</p><p>Some sort of terms and conditions pop-up needs to appear before you travel to the 21<sup>st</sup>. Warning; your life will be a tragic romance drama. Or a tragicomedy, depending on how you look at it.</p><p>"Hey, hey, 'kaashi," said boy pulls him out of his self-combusting thoughts, "let’s take a photo together!"</p><p>Akaashi pauses and blinks. "A photo?"</p><p>The lighting isn’t favourable for pictures right now. Midnight passed long ago. Bokuto takes out his phone, swiping open his camera app.</p><p>"Yeah, right here!" He shuffles closer, until their cheeks are borderline touching.</p><p>Whirling around, he points the camera at their reflection in a store window. It's just bright enough to see them, with the harsh overhead lights as the perfect lighting to illuminate their figures.</p><p><em>Ka-chak!</em> The camera shutter clicks before Akaashi can prepare himself. Bokuto keeps <em>click-click-clicking</em> some more, until he's satisfied, and swipes through the photos to show to Akaashi.</p><p>They're stood cheek-to-cheek. Bokuto's arm is around his waist, but clinging to his jacket instead of holding him. Akaashi knows it's more out of maintaining his drunken balance than anything. Akaashi offers a visage of blank surprise. He looks like a person who's never seen a camera before.</p><p>Actually, that gets him wondering, is this his first time taking a photo in the 21<sup>st</sup> century?</p><p><em>It is</em>, he realises.</p><p>"<em>Akaashi</em>," Bokuto whines, "you look like you're standing to get your portrait painted, not taking a selfie with me."</p><p>Akaashi isn't sure what he's supposed to do in photos. Sure, he’s seen plenty of pictures from the not-yet-dead world, but he never had the opportunity to execute his own. Does he have any prior experience? Getting his photo renewed for his identification card? That hardly counts.</p><p>Bokuto is sulking, bottom lip jutted out. Akaashi wants to put his finger on that pout.</p><p>"What's this, what's this?" Konoha appears out of nowhere, smug grin on his face like he's caught them in some secret escape. "Taking photos without us? That’s not fair, captain!"</p><p>Bokuto glowers. "I wanted some pictures with Akaashi, go away!"</p><p>His slurred speech, along with a lack of hostility in his tone, is enough to know he's joking. Behind Konoha, Sakurui shares a look with Washio.</p><p>"Let us in on the fun too, yeah?" Without waiting for an answer, Konoha throws himself over Akaashi's back. The only reason they don't eat concrete is because Akaashi isn't drunk.</p><p>The rest of the team join them, pushing themselves into Bokuto's camera's vision. Feet stomp on shoes, and someone yelps when they nearly fall to the floor. Bokuto is giggling too much to take the shot. It’s too contagious for Akaashi to suppress his own.</p><p>He looks back at the window and sees his reflection. Akaashi’s expression is pulled into a smile like he has never pulled with his face before. <em>Oh, I have smile lines.</em></p><p>--</p><p>The thrill of the night turns stale with the walk home.</p><p>They’re tripping on air. The majority of the team are safely on the way home with the last of public transport. Washio, Konoha, Komi, Bokuto and Akaashi – their sole voice of reason – are left. They are much too drunk to make it to the last train going to the university, so Akaashi proposes they stay at a hotel for the night. But thankfully, Wasio says that his apartment isn’t too far.</p><p>One shouldn’t trust a drunk man’s words, for they believe they are speaking a truth that is only correct in their own minds. A promised ten-minute walk comes out to be fifteen, now, twenty minutes long.</p><p>Bokuto is no longer capable of picking himself up. Komi’s face is very, very green, and they have to pause every hundred steps to wait for him to maybe-vomit on the pathway.</p><p><em>This is why I refuse to drink</em>. Akaashi decides, readjusting Bokuto’s head on his shoulder. No inhibitions, no memory of the previous night – terrible combinations for a Time Operative.</p><p>The added training has finally proven itself to be worthy as he carries this man made up of over-eighty-five kilograms of solid muscle on his back. His legs are starting to wobble though, they better be getting closer to Washio’s apartment now, otherwise Bokuto won’t be the only one out of commission.</p><p>They arrive twenty-five minutes later than the promised duration. Akaashi thanks the future’s non-existent stars when that elevator works – and immediately regrets it when Komi babbles about vomiting. They arrive to the sixth floor, and Washio immediately pushes Komi into his apartment, dragging him to the bathroom.</p><p>Washio’s apartment is surprisingly clutter-free, save for scattered textbooks in the living room. Shelves of stacked novels and manga, a cabinet of futons and spare blankets for them to use. Tossing Bokuto on the couch, Akaashi begins pulling out a few pillows, shaking out any imaginary dust.</p><p>He makes haste distributing them around the floor, and Konoha doesn’t waste a moment before claiming one for himself and conking out. No way is Akaashi going to bother waking him up so he can take off his leather jacket.</p><p>Bokuto comes back to life, squinting under the lamplight and groaning. He will definitely have a killer headache in the morning. Something close to Akaashi’s name gurgles from his vocal cords.</p><p>“Yes, Bokuto-san?” He says, bringing over a futon. “You should sleep now, it’s late, and you’re drunk.”</p><p>“Sit with me.” Bokuto whines, and who is he to deny him something so simple?</p><p>But the moment Akaashi puts his ass on the cushion, Bokuto clings to him like an overly affectionate puppy. If he looks hard enough, he can see the imaginary wag of his fluffy tail. Whatever self-restraint held him back when he was sober is totally gone, like Bokuto is making up for every lost opportunity to touch, fingers digging into Akaashi’s shirt, hiding his face in his collar, inhaling his scent. The only smell clinging to his clothes must be stale beer and the smoke of cooked chicken.</p><p>Komi exits the bathroom, less green than how he previously looked. He would have laughed at the sight of Bokuto on top of Akaashi if he could, but it’s clear his stomach is not thrilled with him right now, and any wrong move might send him right back to the toilet. “Ohh, isn’t that sweet.”</p><p>Akaashi would beg to differ. It isn’t that he hates the clinginess – he knows it’s how Bokuto is. His insides are constantly jumping all over the place, and his skin is tingling. He feels feverish, but he knows he isn’t sick.</p><p>(And he isn’t sure why he doesn’t mind it as much as he should.)</p><p>A hand <em>pat-pat-pat</em>s on his head, fingers running through his hair like they’re fascinated by the sensation, rather than a gesture of comfort. “Your hair’s so soft, Akaashi…”</p><p>Komi snorts.</p><p>“As much as I appreciate the affection, Bokuto-san, we need to sleep.”</p><p>“Noo, Akaashi, don’t wanna sleep yet.”</p><p>He suppresses the urge to sigh. “Come on, the others are already in their futons.”</p><p>Washio has probably hauled himself to bed already. Konoha is snoring, and Komi is seconds away from joining him.</p><p>“Sleep with meee!” He wails, clinging tighter to his back.</p><p>Komi cackles. Akaashi glares, so he pretends to snore. Asshole.</p><p>“Alright fine, let me set a futon out for you.” He slips out of Bokuto’s hold, picking up the discarded blankets and setting them out on the open space in the room. The whole time, Bokuto’s sleepy stare doesn’t stray off his back, like he’s making sure Akaashi won’t go back on his promise.</p><p>There aren’t enough futons for all of them. Washio owns three spares, which Akaashi planned to give to his teammates, before taking the couch. When it’s all set out, Bokuto rolls from the couch and crawls on top of it, immediately bringing the covers up to his chin. Satisfied, he blinks expectedly at Akaashi and pats what little space is available for him. “Well? Aren’t you going to join me?”</p><p>Did Washio leave the aircon off? Akaahsi’s face is warm. “I-I’ll lie by your side until you fall asleep.”</p><p>Bokuto pouts in disappointment, but he’s grown too tired to argue. Good. Akaashi doesn’t know how much more of this he can handle.</p><p>Much to his relief, Bokuto goes out like a light, and Akaashi can finally breath.</p><p>Why is there no etiquette handbook to prepare you for situations like this? His muscles ache with a different type of exhaustion. It feels like the floor is going to open up beneath him any second now, and he’s going to drop, falling falling falling – and he isn’t sure if it’s in a good way.</p><p>Glancing at Bokuto, the corners of his lips curve upwards. His hair is half-up half-down, messy over his eyes. In a moment of recklessness, Akaashi pushes it off his forehead, fingertip sparking where they touch.</p><p>There’s something undeniably magnetic about Bokuto Koutarou – something more than his radiance and his glow, and more than the previous Akaashi Keiji’s feelings. It’s entirely his own is growing within his gut. It’s completely new, and it’s something so exhilarating he knows he should be terrified.</p><p>He is. Terrified.</p><p>But he doesn’t want to do anything about it.</p><p>Shaking his head, Akaashi pushes that out of his mind. No, he <em>will</em> do something about it. He has to, or else he will be disobeying Protocol. He’s just tired tonight, is all. Yeah, that’s it.</p><p>He’s just tired.</p><p>So tired, he barely remembers crawling on top of the couch. The months of all-nighters spent on missions have caught up to him. No messages reached his phone for the first time in what feels like forever. He doesn’t have anywhere to be.</p><p>He falls asleep in minutes.</p><p>Morning comes quickly because somebody forgot to shut their alarm off. Blue hour is not even over; that time before sunrise where the light isn’t strong or sharp yet, but just enough to make it difficult to go back to sleep. The curtains weren’t pulled down last night, and a glow of rose pink and chambray blue reflect on the vases of flowers on Washio’s shelves.</p><p>A weight is on Akaashi’s side. It isn’t a metaphor for something gnawing at him - it’s the physical kind of weight. Similar to when he carried Bokuto on his back the previous night-</p><p>Akaashi’s jolts awake. A tuft of sugar-white hair tickles his nose. Strong, sturdy arms, bare of the hoodie they wore yesterday, are wrapped around his torso. Bokuto is sleeping on top of him.</p><p>What. The. Hell.</p><p>Bokuto seems to have found his way to Akaashi’s side in the middle of the night, slipped into his space, and cuddled him through the night.</p><p>Like an ancient computer, Akaashi’s brain whirs and clicks in its attempt to switch on, but something goes wrong, and it screeches and breaks and sparks on fire. A voice is screaming in his brain synapses.</p><p>He doesn’t know how he does it, but he manages to escape Bokuto’s hold, rushing to the bathroom. One foot nearly kicks Konoha’s mouth, drooling on the pillow. His phone is still playing that chirpy alarm, so Akaashi puts it on mute before running into the bathroom. He slides the door closed, and pressed his back to it.</p><p>His thoughts are running a mile a minute, but he can’t keep up with any of them. His heart is racing too fast for someone who woke up not three minutes ago. Padding over to the sink, he splashes cool water on his cheeks.</p><p>Akaashi lifts his eyes to the mirror to watch the way ruddy red splotches appear on his face and, suddenly, he wants to wash it again. He’s <em>blushing</em>.</p><p>
  <em>What the fuck.</em>
</p><p>--</p><p>Bokuto has no recollection of the previous night - at least nowhere beyond the arcade games. Akaashi is relieved because he isn’t sure how he would cope if Bokuto actually remembered more.</p><p>Everyone except Akaashi sports a terrible hangover. Water and painkillers are kindly offered by Washio, and Akaashi hurries them to the train so they can rest at the dorms.</p><p>“How the hell are you… alive?” Komi asks Akaashi, throwing on a hood to cover his sickly pallor. He’s referring to the fact that Akaashi is the only one of them who looks presentable and sane after last night’s endeavours. “Are you even human?”</p><p>"Sometimes I ask myself that too." Is his offhanded reply. Konoha barks a laugh, and Bokuto grunts at him to shush. “And also, I have self-control. Unlike some people.”</p><p>Komi shoots him a weak glare.</p><p>It's a snail’s pace walk to the train station, Akaashi in the lead, tutting like an impatient parent. If he avoids Bokuto's gaze the entire time, nobody notices.</p><p>Konoha, Komi, and Bokuto return to the dorms, and Akaashi pads to his apartment. In the post, he finally finds a letter that was delivered to him yesterday when he was out. The eviction procedure is the same one as what he found during his research - the city council wants to demolish and refurbish this estate with newer and better apartments. The kind its current residents won't be able to afford. He kind of wishes he could have intervened and gotten this demolition plan repealed.</p><p>Unfortunately, getting involved in affairs outside the mission are forbidden, so he spends most of the weekend searching for affordable accommodation close to campus, and the rest of it reading through Taskforce documents.</p><p>Instability in the Taskforce has meant new precautions are placed on their missions. What was once fact cannot be trusted one hundred percent anymore. New data and old intel have to be reread to take into account even the slightest inaccuracy. Jobs are adorned with all these new risk factors now that nobody really gets the point of. But they’re here for insurance and all that…</p><p>Events and incidents that agents have been preparing for go ahead as planned, but new measures are in place. Healers and Warriors have arrived to the 21<sup>st</sup> by the dozens, and work to the bone on missions they were never meant to be assigned on, for the sake of protecting agents and innocent victims.</p><p>Engineers leave some incidents to occur without anyone's tampering. They say the priority now is to stop the most disastrous situations from occurring. So agents are forbidden from saving someone's life unless ordered by the Director.</p><p>Akaashi has to accept that.</p><p>Monday comes with the warning of summer’s first downpour. Clouds loom over the city, so dark you could mistake it for evening time. Akaashi makes his way to practice alone. Bokuto went to visit his family on Sunday, deciding to stay over for the night, so he isn't back at the dorms yet.</p><p>For once, he is grateful to be alone. Heaviness weighs like the threat of rain over the city. To wear a mask in order to pretend everything is okay would merely drown him deeper into his despondency.</p><p>He swipes his student ID card and enters the campus grounds. Too absorbed in the radio, the security guard doesn't see him bow in greeting like usual. Students hover in the middle of the pathway, absorbed in their phones.</p><p>He isn’t curious about what they’re seeing. He already knows.</p><p>The gym is in a similar state. A circle of his teammates is huddling around someone's phone with matching expressions of shock. Setting his towel at the edge of the court, he tries to ignore the newscaster's voice as it echoes in the gym.</p><p>“A truck driver sleeping at the wheel has led to what appears to be the biggest traffic collision in local history. Roads have closed around the area of the car pile-up, with emergency services arriving to the location. The driver and six other people, including two children, have been confirmed dead at the scene."</p><p><em>There were supposed to be more confirmed casualties</em>, Akaashi recalls. Ten dead at the scene is what had been counted before, with another two dying in ICU. A slight alteration.</p><p>“This collision will not clear up any time soon. We advise the public to avoid the area until it is free of obstruction. This is a tragic incident for the city…”</p><p>He knew about this crash. A foolish kid, living in a dying world, he tried to figure out how to stop it from happening. Stupid, is what he was back then. When the instructors found him, he was punished for trying to mess with the timeline.</p><p><em>Idiotic child</em>, one of them seethed, <em>daring to go against Protocol orders so senselessly?</em></p><p>Interfering with the natural order is forbidden. Unless ordered by the Director, Time Operatives cannot meddle with the timeline.</p><p>Those who are predicted to die must die.</p><p>He doesn’t remember what his punishment was anymore; his stupidity hadn't warranted kicking him from the Taskforce operation, but it wasn't trivial enough to get away with the work labour punishment either. He only remembers thinking that someone could have saved those people. Someone could've stepped in - someone could override the driver's consciousness before the crash, someone could stop the truck, someone could have done <em>something</em>-</p><p>A mere car crash isn't important in the grand plan. It was not worth the effort. Because nobody there was deemed important enough to save. Because they have the power and the knowledge to save so many from a meaningless death, and they choose not to...</p><p>Coach blows his whistle to call everyone over, making Akaashi flinch. With a deep inhale, he stands up.</p><p>“That’s horrible.” A first-year mutters once they gather into a semi-circle. “I can’t believe something like that can happen in the city.”</p><p>He doesn’t want to think about it anymore.</p><p>“Let’s do our stretches now!” Coach shouts over the chatter, but he's is more subdued than usual, obviously shaken by the news too.</p><p>They form their circles, separating into each year, and begin by stretching their arms.</p><p>“Where’s Bokuto?” asks Coach, glancing around the court, but their captain is nowhere to be found.</p><p>“Huh? He should be here by now.” Konoha says with confusion.</p><p>“He visited his family over the weekend, they live on the other side of the city.” Onaga answers, bending to touch his toes. “Now that you mentioned it, doesn’t his family live close to that car accident?”</p><p>Mid-stretch, Akaashi finds himself pausing. Something falls from a long height down his ribcage, spilling freezing-cold fear through his entire body until it goes straight through his core. Reality comes screeching to a halt, only to race into rapid overdrive.</p><p>Mentally, he tries to tally up the number of deaths in the collision - remembering their names, their appearances. Bokuto’s name was not there – <em>it wasn’t</em>.</p><p>Akaashi's memory is never wrong. It isn't how he was coded. He has it all programmed into his head. But the future is always changing, in subtle ways and obvious ways – and with the system as unstable as it has become, agents don't know anything anymore. They don't have the most up-to-date information at their disposal.</p><p>Akaashi's knowledge is obsolete.</p><p>Every breath is like icy water seeping into his lungs. It feels like he's time travelled all over again - back into the mind that stupid kid who didn't want to see people die avoidable deaths. He should’ve looked into this again, he should’ve paid more attention to the news, he could have stopped this, he could have <em>done something</em>-</p><p>Before his brain can catch up, Akaashi is running. He dashes out of the gym, unbothered by his shoes or by Coach calling him back. He doesn't know where he's running, or why.</p><p>He can't change this.</p><p>Protocol 3: A life is not to be taken, nor is it to be saved, unless previously ordered. Killing innocent people is forbidden, and saving the one’s predicted to die is against the rules.</p><p>But Bokuto cannot be dead. He isn't supposed to die. He's supposed to be here. Right here, on campus, at the gym. He should be waiting for Akaashi to set the ball to him, cheering when it breaks through the other side.</p><p>Then why isn’t he <em>here</em>?</p><p>By the time the campus gates come into view, Akaashi is panting, and he knows it isn't out of exhaustion. He doesn't know why he continues running – logic pushed down by dread. It isn't like he can run all the way to the accident, and he won't ever find Bokuto if he runs through the city like this either.</p><p>It's seven thirty in the morning, and the security guard approaches to open the gates to the public. They slide open at a funeral's pace, agonisingly slow. Rain finally pours from the dark sky. Thunder rumbles like an earthquake.</p><p>A crack of lightning strikes in the distance, bright and blinding. When it fades and a clap of thunder follows to match as the gates slam into place. With a hitched gasp, Akaashi takes in the sight on the other side.</p><p>Beneath a navy-blue umbrella, Bokuto peeks out. An overnight bag is hoisted over his back, along with his normal one used for textbooks and his laptop. His hair is ruffled from the humidity.</p><p>He's alive.</p><p>Rain has already soaked through Akaashi's jersey and his shoes, but he doesn't care.</p><p>Bokuto looks up from his phone, and their gazes meet.</p><p>Akaashi's soul soars.</p><p>Thousands of languages exist in the not-yet-dead world, with tens of thousands of words in all of them. And for some reason, when Bokuto directs a smile at him, he can't find a single one to describe what he feels. He feels full, and hollow. Relieved and terrified. He’s crumbling in a world of fire and destruction. And he’s put back together by the one person who makes the sun look pale in comparison.</p><p>"Akaashi, hasn't practice started yet?" asks Bokuto. "Wait - you're wearing your volleyball uniform already, why are you outside? And you don't have an umbrella! Is something happening?"</p><p>“You’re here.” He croaks, voice scratchy. Bokuto moves closer so they can both fit under his umbrella. "I thought, you… I was-”</p><p>“Oh yeah, did you hear about that car crash in the city?” Bokuto says. “All the trains stopped working, and loads of buses got cancelled too, so I had to go all the way to another district to take the train from there.”</p><p>In the middle of all this chaos - a downpour, a system tamper, a world set on course towards the end, Bokuto is here. Bright and pure with a heart as golden as his eyes and a soul that's attached to his host.</p><p>Akaashi's knees threaten to give out beneath him. A bout of hysterical laughter threatens to burst from his belly – whether of relief, incredulity or madness, he isn't sure.</p><p><em>Pathetic, foolish child</em>. Panicking and running to find someone deemed unworthy of being saved. Is that what he has become?</p><p>(Or is he reaching out for something that the Taskforce forbids him from having? Looking for something he isn't allowed to find?)</p><p>Dirt seeps through his volleyball shoes. He won't be able to go back to practice, he has to clean them first. A corner of Bokuto’s bag is unzipped and Akaashi sees his jersey peeking out. With a tilt of his head, Bokuto waits for him to answer his question.</p><p>
  <em>What is wrong with me? </em>
</p><p>Akaashi leans in. Their height difference isn’t <em>that</em> significant but it’s there, and tt’s the perfect difference so Akaashi can settle his cheek on Bokuto's shoulder. A certain scent clings to Bokuto's clothes, something soft and pleasant. Familiar. Like home.</p><p>He can feel Bokuto stiffen under his fingers. An expression of confused shock appears on his expression. Maybe Bokuto thinks this a dream - because that's what it feels like for Akaashi. Some semblance of an incoherent sentence tries to make its way from Bokuto's lips. Akaashi's soft grip on the back of his jacket shuts him up.</p><p>
  <em>You're here.</em>
</p><p>“I was - I thought that, you,” Akaashi stutters, “I heard the news and I-I thought… I don’t know what I thought. It’s just that, your family lives in that area and I… I don’t know.”</p><p>“Oh, <em>‘kaashi</em>.” The furrow in his brow softens and strong arms wrap around him. The umbrella tilts, exposing them to the rain, but that's not important - Akaashi is already soaked to the bone anyway. “Yeah, my family lives in the area, but they’re not involved in that accident at all. Everyone is fine, and I wasn’t anywhere near it either. It’s okay.”</p><p><em>It’s okay</em>. Bokuto is okay. He’s here, he’s safe.</p><p>Time Operatives aren’t allowed to interfere in the natural order. If a person is predicted to die, then they cannot meddle with it. Unless there’s orders to save someone’s life, they’re not meant to prevent their death.</p><p>But Akaashi thinks, if he had known Bokuto was somehow going to be involved in that incident... he would have tried to save him. He would have fought the entire universe if it meant Bokuto got to live.</p><p>And he would have gladly paid the exit fee with his life.</p><p>--</p><p>Like the butterfly effect, everything falls apart in such a way no one should be surprised. Because when you look back, see all the instances leading up to this moment, you realise you should have seen it coming, and you slap yourself for not realising sooner.</p><p>On the last day of exams, right before the summer break, Akaashi receives an order from the Director, and the world comes crashing down around him.</p><p>He reads the message again and again, wondering if there's been some sort of mistake. But the way his races with adrenaline tells him it isn't any mistake.</p><p>Alongside the main five rules, there is one more Protocol that Time Operatives know. A rule that nobody ever wants to see, because if they do, then that means something has gone really, <em>really</em> wrong. Whatever has triggered this Protocol is serious enough that all agents are now in danger.</p><p>
  <strong>[Protocol 0: This is a Top Priority emergency. All Time Operatives must do whatever it takes to resolve the emergency at hand. Maintain your host's life.]</strong>
</p><p>Nothing else is there, no context or explanation – but it's enough for every Time Operative to drop what they’re doing and <em>run</em>.</p><p>The gym is right there, beckoning him in with the squeak of volleyball shoes and balls bouncing on the court. The faint scent of paint and dust and Air Salonpas is as familiar as that of his own clothing.</p><p>Akaashi whirls around and runs out of campus.</p><p>Luck is on his side when he doesn't bump into anyone he knows in the midst of his escape, bolting straight for the train station. He jumps into the carriage right as the doors close.</p><p>If Time Operatives ever receive Protocol 0, the emergency policy states they meet with other agents in the vicinity. Safety is in numbers, and they must protect each other. The best place to do that is at any Mech. Operative station, so Akaashi heads straight to the library base.</p><p>Just before the signal goes out as the train rushes underground, his phone vibrates with a text.</p><p>
  <strong>[Kenma; Friday, 5:04PM]</strong>
  <em>: come to hq asap pls</em>
</p><p>A twenty-minute commute has never dragged out for so long. He arrives at his destination and runs in the overcrowded streets to the base. The feels of being tailed is one he hopes is part of his imagination. The library comes into view, and he dashes to the back entrance. Mechanics open the door, inviting him in when he recites the secret code. A Warrior is on the roof, pointing a sniper rifle to the back of his head- as a precaution.</p><p>Trust in each other is as important as preparing for a stab to the back.</p><p>Dozens of agents have already arrived. If they weren't holding weapons and suppressors, one would assume they're here for a board meeting. The snap of ammo into a clip has Akaashi digging around for his own gun, hidden at the bottom of his duffle bag.</p><p>The Hackers have all gathered in the workstation, bathed in blue from the multiple interfaces, but Kenma isn't there. Akaashi taps the code in to enter Kenma's office, devoid of any light, except blue.</p><p>Nekoma University's red tracksuit has always been oversized on Kenma's frame, but now, he's drowning in it. Kenma is in the middle of the room, frazzled in a way Akaashi has never seen him before. Fingers fidget with one of his sleeves or a pen he picks up or the gun around his belt. “We’ve been found out.”</p><p>It all falls apart, like the crash of one domino after another. The ground beneath him sways. “What do you mean found out? Like, we’ve been caught?”</p><p>Kenma swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing. “There-there’s videos out there, of us – of Time Operatives.”</p><p>Akaashi’s lungs tighten. Kenma is trembling.</p><p>A tab of messages is open on one of the monitors, in the messaging system Time Operatives use, built by Hackers to contact agents in the future and other parts of the not-yet-dead world. But the design is different. Colourful letters and coded numbers flash like glitter on the display, a cat emoji sobbing with laughter, as if to mock them. The Taskforce has been compromised.</p><p>An ominous pit opens up in his stomach when it hits that Kenma is the target of whatever's going on right now.</p><p>“Someone’s breached into the communications system, and they’ve got a hold of every piece of evidence I got rid of.” Kenma glares at the screen. “They want Time Operatives to work for them - in exchange for keeping the Taskforce a secret to the 21<sup>st</sup>.”</p><p>It feels like someone else is piloting this body right now, because Akaashi is shaking his head without him realising. “There’s no… there’s no way. We hide our tracks – Kenma, you-you always make sure to get rid of the evidence every time. You’re the best Hacker in the entire Taskforce. It’s not possible for anyone to get past your defences.”</p><p>“Well, they did, okay!?” Kenma flares, shoulders rising to his ears. “Whoever this is, they know I’m the one who does that and, somehow, they – this person got past all of it – all my codes, authorisations, firewalls… they dug up everything I’ve hid about us, <em>everything."</em></p><p>Kenma sucks in a breath, sharp and stuttering, and not quite reaching his lungs. With cautious steps, Akaashi comes closer. “It isn't your fault, Kenma. You couldn’t have possibly known this’d happen...”</p><p>Carefully manoeuvring him around, Akaashi makes sure Kenma is looking right at him.</p><p>Ever since Kenma's first panic attack, Akaashi has taken the time to grow familiar with Kenma's tell before it begins. First is the fidgeting, a desperation to find a distraction as panic sets in. When that doesn't help, his breathing becomes strange. Like too much air has entered his lungs, but he still can't breathe. By that point, Akaashi tugs him out of his head, bringing him back to reality, and out of that tunnel he's trapped in, using whatever works - breathing exercises, counting, focusing on his senses.</p><p>This time, he doesn’t think any of that will help. “This isn't your fault.” Akaashi repeats. “We’ll figure this out, I know we will. It’s not your fault.”</p><p>As he speaks, he's already mentally computing every chain of events that could have caused this. Major phenomena and minor butterfly missions that might have messed up the timeline. Predicted deaths, and how those have changed. There is too much to go through, too much they couldn't have foreseen - so much they aren't capable of preventing.</p><p>Based on the messages, it’s easy to deduce that their anonymous attacker is a normal civilian from the 21<sup>st</sup>.</p><p>How did they find out about the Time Traveller Taskforce? What do they want from the agents?</p><p>Who ratted them out?</p><p>Is there a traitor among the special operatives?</p><p>Akaashi really hopes that isn’t the case.</p><p>--</p><p>
  <strong>[Anonymous; Friday, 4:46PM]:</strong>
  <em> Hi there, time traveller. I’ve come across some very interesting videos revealing all sorts of fascinating things about time travel and murder. It would be a shame if this got out to the rest of the world in the present, no?</em>
</p><p>
  <strong>[Anonymous; Friday, 4:47PM]:</strong>
  <em> Tell you what, we make can a deal together. If you people do what I ask, you’ll get to keep all your dirty secrets safe a little longer.</em>
</p><p>
  <strong>[Anonymous; Friday, 4:47PM]:</strong>
  <em> You have 3 days to text into your trusty messenger app here and accept my offer or else I’ll expose you to the whole world.</em>
</p><p>
  <strong>[Anonymous; Friday, 4:48PM]: </strong>
  <em>[3 photos sent]</em>
</p><p>
  <em>[3 images are attached, each an image of a video clip as evidence. All of them are screenshots of CCTV footage from the hidden files in Kenma’s computer. The first image shows Time Operatives as they infiltrate a warehouse belonging to a human trafficking cartel. The second image is a team of Warriors hauling boxes and carts of weaponry into a truck to deliver them to Mech. Operative stations. The last photo is of a sharpshooter team, preparing their snipers to assassinate a target from the roof of a building.]</em>
</p><p>
  <strong>[Anonymous; Friday, 4:48PM]:</strong>
  <em> Here’s some screenshots as my evidence, in case you were curious. Oh, and don’t bother trying to hack into my network. You’ll never get in &lt;3</em>
</p><p>--</p><p>Silence shrouds the office, with only the <em>tap-tap</em> on a keyboard. Funny images and emojis seem to jeer at Kenma when he fails to break into the network.</p><p><strong>[Anonymous; Saturday, 5:24AM]:</strong> <em>better luck next time, kitten!!</em></p><p>A message pops up every time he fails. Kenma bares his teeth in a scowl, especially because of the pet names this person has decided to call him. A gap in the curtains allows sunrise to pinken the room. Kenma has refused to move off the computer the entire night.</p><p>Holding the unofficial title of best Hacker in the Taskforce, Kenma's skills are beyond what others possess. Dangerous intelligence and sharpened programming skills. In a world of control, Kenma embraces chaos to strike his targets where they don't want to be struck.</p><p>He shouldn't be left completely stumped because some bastard has put a leash around him.</p><p>For the first time in a long time, Akaashi doesn't know what to do. Tracking the IP address is futile, and he can't detect any loopholes around the virus in their programmes with his novice-trained eye. All that rigid training to be a Strategist - a part of a machine - has come back to bite him in the ass right now.</p><p><strong>[Anonymous; Saturday, 5:32AM]:</strong> <em>that was stupid... why would you try that? XD</em></p><p>“We need a break.” He slouches in his seat and pinches the bridge of his nose.</p><p>“I’ll take a break when I stop the entire Taskforce from becoming overnight celebrities.” Kenma grunts.</p><p>Perhaps Bokuto's constant badgering is finally working on him, because Akaashi can see the cute texts from his phone, and they prompt him to get up and find some food for Kenma.</p><p>Rations and snacks are in the breakroom, courtesy of the Mechanics digging it out of the basement. Akaashi brews some coffee for himself and Kenma and gets a debrief of what others are doing while he waits.</p><p>The other Hackers are working to track down their attacker, but much like Kenma, they can’t find them. And the leaked evidence will have to be Kenma's responsibility to get back, since it was all stored on his data system.</p><p>Warriors patrol by the entryways and windows. The other two Strategists in their base are scheming in the boardroom, whiteboard full of potential addresses, suspects, and previous misinformation. They're just doing their job, but Akaashi doesn't want to look at them. All the information marked is the exact same he already analysed in his head.</p><p>Strategists are all the same. <em>One braincell</em>, he muses.</p><p>Back at the office, Kenma refuses to budge when Akaashi offers him coffee in front of his line of sight. He takes matters into his own hands. Ignoring Kenma's whining, he drags him away from the desk with the entire chair. “<em>Keiji</em>, don’t do this to me.”</p><p>A wrapped onigiri is shoved into Kenma's lap, and the coffee cup gets plonked down on the table with enough force for Kenma to know he won't be going anywhere until all of it is finished.</p><p>“Adjusting to life in the 21<sup>st</sup> is difficult - we all know that - but the one thing no Time Operative is ever able to get used to,” Akaashi peels the plastic off his own onigiri, shoving a bite into his mouth, “is the host body’s incapability to withstand days without sustenance.”</p><p>Kenma has the same expression on his face as when he ate meat for the first time. Disgruntled and questioning his life decisions.</p><p>“<em>You</em> are a prime example of this issue right now, Kenma. Eat and drink something. You’re going to pass out if you keep going at this pace.”</p><p>Kenma sighs but doesn't argue anymore. His phone died overnight, and Akaashi suspects all his game consoles have been forgotten at home, so he passes him his own in the hopes that the silly games will give Kenma temporary reprieve.</p><p>“You’ve got like, eleven texts from Bokuto.” Kenma sips loudly on his coffee. “And six missed calls too.”</p><p>“Swipe them away, I’ll deal with him later.” He takes a weary glance at his failed tracking attempts on the processor where the message ‘<em>try again, loser</em>’ jeers at him.</p><p>“He sounds pretty worried though. Maybe you should reply to him now.”</p><p>“Stop snooping, and play your games.” The tips of his ears grow warm. “I don’t have the time right now.”</p><p>“It’s not snooping if they pop up in front of my game.” Kenma retorts whilst getting all-perfect's on the hardest level of a rhythm game. “He sounds sweet, if he cares so much about you.”</p><p>“He cares about Akaashi, not me.” He corrects Kenma.</p><p>“I guess.” The game’s '<em>you won!</em>' melody is really insulting right now. “At this point though, you've been around long enough that he's got to be aware of your personality change. Because, no offence, it's literally impossible to copy someone else's life perfectly. So if he's still your friend after dealing with that <em>crass attitude</em> you have, I'd say he's come to accept <em>you</em> too. Not just the Akaashi from before.”</p><p>"We'll have this discussion later." He'd prefer <em>never at all</em>. "We've got other things to wallow about, and imposter syndrome isn't one of them."</p><p>They have no time. They have to focus on keeping the Taskforce a secret. He can't let his stomach feel so strange and... tingly. It's a distraction. The situation is overwhelming enough - it's like he's experiencing information overload. Except this time, the information is too big to tackle with one little conversation that he isn't ready to have.</p><p>The Taskforce needs to find a solution to their predicament. The Engineers in the future are no help, unable to detect anything from their side, and whilst the Director tries to calculate their safest course of action, it's up to the Time Operatives to thwart off the rest of the world. The Director has never taken so long to figure something out, and Akaashi worries there won't be a plausible outcome available.</p><p><em>Or maybe this situation is so insignificant it wasn't ever worth detecting in the future…</em> Akaashi knows it isn't that simple.</p><p>“You’ve got another notification.” Kenma pipes up. “From your summer course.”</p><p>Akaashi blinks. He completely forgot about that thing.</p><p>“A reminder telling you that the course commences on Monday.” Kenma reads. “We’ll get this shit over with by then, one way or another. You shouldn’t miss your course.”</p><p>Akaashi exhales. “How considerate of you, Kenma-<em>san</em>.”</p><p>Nearly seventy hours after Protocol 0 was triggered, they are no closer to stopping the leak. Monday comes, and Akaashi doesn’t attend the first class of his summer course. He can feel guilty about missing it at another stage in time. The mission always comes first.</p><p>Kenma finally fell asleep when Akaashi swapped his usual coffee for decaf.</p><p>How he'd love to shower right now, but there aren’t any in a library, and they're forbidden from leaving HQ until this is all over (and one way or another, it will be over). The bathroom sink is sufficient for now, so Akaashi washes himself as best as he can. A travel-kit of toiletries was provided to every agent stuck in HQ, so he brushes his teeth and washes his face, letting the chilled water flow over his hair like it will cool off his overused brain.</p><p>It does nothing. His mind is processing different strategies and scenarios on how to reveal the identity of the attacker. Today is the deadline, and they're running out of options.</p><p>He goes to the artillery room, pulling out extra knives and ammo to hide in his jacket as a precaution. He can’t confirm whether these will protect him from their attacker, or the entirety of the 21<sup>st</sup> century.</p><p>Last night, an Engineer gave updates on what to do, but it wasn't different from what they already planned. Keep trying to infiltrate their attacker's network. If they don't succeed by the deadline, then they will wait for orders from the Director to determine how to comply with their anonymous attacker without compromising the Taskforce.</p><p>The future is willing to make Time Operatives into puppets if it means protecting the Taskforce.</p><p>Their rations have dwindled to processed snacks and milk bread. They don't even have coffee in the cabinets, let alone tea. <em>Animals</em>, Akaashi grumbles, <em>the Taskforce is full of greedy little shits</em>.</p><p>Not like he can blame them. This might count as their last meal.</p><p>Snagging some packets and water bottles, Akaashi returns to Kenma's office, where his heavy-lidded gaze is fixed on the PC.</p><p>“I got milk bread.” He tosses the packet on Kenma’s desk.</p><p>“I’ll eat it later.” Kenma replies, glaring at the new message that appeared.</p><p><strong>[Anonymous; Monday, 7:42AM]:</strong> <em>you’re so stingy when you’re tired and frustrated, shortcake, I wish I could see the pout on your face :&lt;</em></p><p>“I think you mean to say ‘<em>I’ll eat it now, thank you so much, Akaashi-senpai</em>’.” Akaashi retorts, pulling his attention away from the computer.</p><p>Kenma opens the plastic, thanking Akaashi in the midst of a yawn.</p><p>(“Also, I’m older than you.”</p><p>Akaashi pauses. “Oh, right. That’s weird.”</p><p>Their birthdays are different now.)</p><p>It's easy to tell Kenma is spiralling into a whirlwind of self-destructive thoughts. Ones of failure, incompetence, and defeat. Ones that make him question if he is worthy to hold the Time Operative title. <em>Failure</em> is intrinsically ingrained into their philosophy next to the word <em>pathetic</em> for a reason.</p><p>They eat in silence, and ignore Akaashi's phone vibrating with texts. Kenma is too tired to comment on the way Akaashi's jaw clenches because of the noise.</p><p>A Time Operative never questions the rules because they know - Protocol is there to protect them and the mission. They’re all aware of that.</p><p>Or at least. They all know what they have been told.</p><p>He knows the contents in the unread messages. Engineers, providing instructions to agents how to comply and cooperate with their attacker. Negotiation tactics that'll potentially convince them to keep the Taskforce a secret.</p><p>And it makes him wonder. Does Protocol <em>really</em> protect Time Operatives?</p><p>If you question the authorities, you put your consciousness on the line.</p><p>The Time Traveller Taskforce has its flaws - anyone who survived its hellish training can confirm that - but it is also their one hope of saving the world.</p><p>Even if saving the world comes at the cost of <em>everything</em>.</p><p><em>Ping!</em> The sound draws Akaashi's attention to Kenma's desktop as it opens without prompting.</p><p>"Good morning, good morning!" A bright voice concealed by a filter exclaims so loud Kenma almost jumps out of his seat. "Oh, don't be so frightened, shortcake. I won't bite you through the screen."</p><p>“Who are you?” Kenma demands, fingers pressing to the knife in his belt. “What do you want?”</p><p>"Can I not pop in and remind you of your time limit? And it’s nice to hear your voice again." A tab opens on the mainframe, scrolling up to the attacker's initial messages. "I gave you plenty of time to consider my offer. Would you like to do some favours for me, or would you like the world to hunt you for blood sport?"</p><p>Akaashi curses. Where are the Director’s orders? They’re supposed to be here by now. Why isn’t anyone telling them what to do anymore? Are they really throwing all responsibility on Kenma now?</p><p>Akaashi reaches towards his computer, but it won’t turn on. He curses again. Their attacker crashed the entire thing. He whips out his phone, relieved to see it still functions.</p><p>“What are your demands?” Swallowing his pride, Kenma asks the dreaded question a he desperately tries to get his computer work for him again. “Why do you want to get yourself involved with time travellers?”</p><p>“Why would I <em>not</em> want to get involved with time travellers? Especially one’s as feisty as you.” Kenma visibly recoils. “I just think it’s a shame that people like you have so much knowledge about the future, and use none of it for the greater good.”</p><p>Kenma's eye flicker all over the monitor, trying to get past the virus and access files. “How do you know what our job is?”</p><p>“I don’t, kitten. I don’t know a single fucking thing.” The person replies as they close the files Kenma opens up from wherever they are. “But I do know that you’re not here to be the heroes.”</p><p>Akaashi takes in every piece of information revealed like he's starved for the answer. <em>It's nice to hear your voice again… I won’t bite you through the screen… I wish I could see the pout on your face…</em></p><p>This person has seen Kenma before. They know what he looks like, at least enough to make these debased remarks.</p><p>Grabbing a cord from the ground, he plugs it into his phone and connects it to the processor. It lights up with the charging notification as it loads the CCTV cameras connected to the server.</p><p>“Where’ve you been this week.” He mouths to Kenma, who quickly writes a haphazard list of locations on a sticky note.</p><p>He types them in, going through dozens of recordings to find Kenma's familiar head of hair. He needs to be quick, otherwise their attacker will realise what he’s doing.</p><p>Akihabara, Roppongi, Ebisu, and Ginza. In each one, he spots Kenma. In Akihabara, he slinks through the crowds with a dark-haired boy. <em>Kuroo</em>, his memory supplies, <em>it can’t be anyone else</em>.</p><p>In Roppongi, he acts inconspicuous on his way to a butterfly mission. In Ebisu and Ginza, he scouts for potential hiding spots for upcoming tasks.</p><p>In every camera, a similar face keeps popping up. Akaashi takes screenshots of the person and swipes open a facial-recognition software.</p><p>“You know so much. So much of what’s going to happen.” The attacker continues, tone eerily chipper with an undercurrent of rage. “You know who’s going to die, don’t you? There is so much war in the world, so much hatred and corruption and death – but you’re not doing anything to stop that, are you?</p><p>Kenma knows better than to fall for provocations.</p><p>“You… I don’t know what the fuck you do, but you <em>kill</em> people, don’t you? To go back in time, you have to kill someone and take over their body, right?” A heavy breath crackles through the speakers. “You come here believing you’re doing something good, something that’ll save the world! But all you people are is cold-blooded murderers.”</p><p>The facial scan is a success, revealing the identity of the person on the other side of the server.</p><p>“You take the life of innocent people instead of saving them!” They're overcome with their own personal rage and vendetta. “Well, I’m not going to let that happen anymore – I’m not going to let more innocent people die by your hands!”</p><p>Ikehara Jirou. Junior assistant at a publishing firm in Kanda district. He lives up in the northern district with his wife and two kids. Or he used to. Because they died in that car collision from two months ago.</p><p>Ikehara Jirou was supposed to die along with them.</p><p>It isn't surprising that some predicted death become annulled. As the future changes and sets a course towards the optimum path to a better future, some people no longer risk dying.</p><p>But this is different. Because Ikehara Jirou's name was never taken off from that list. His death was predicted to happen in the car crash. But it didn’t.</p><p>Never has it occurred that a person from the 21<sup>st</sup> sets out to seek revenge. Never has it happened that the Director is not here to give them orders on what to do.</p><p>In the butterfly effect Ikehara Jirou is the part of the product that never made it to the end, which, for him, was death. And because of that, the outcome has turned into something unpredictable and catastrophic.</p><p>The future is silent, so Akaashi makes the call. He opens the messaging app on his phone.</p><p>Besides, if the Director can't reach a decision on time, then it's up to Strategists to call the shots.</p><p>
  <strong>[Akaashi; Monday, 8:13AM]: </strong>
  <em>Name: Ikehara Jirou. Age 29. IP Address: 819.112.252.5</em>
</p><p><strong>[Akaashi; Monday, 8:14AM]:</strong> <em>Kill him, override his consciousness, it doesn’t matter. Make sure Ikehara Jirou does not get away.</em></p><p>He knows the moment Ikehara sees Akaashi's message. “Shit, shit, shit, <em>shit</em>,” Ikehara curses, “I was told to keep my eye out for you, fucking Strategist.”</p><p>The slight distraction from Kenma is enough for the Hacker to breach the Ikehara's firewall, and smash through it. Akaashi copies all the information Ikehara deletes onto his phone, transferring it to their Hacker teams.</p><p>Fuck Protocol. Fuck it. Akaashi is not going to become somebody's puppet. If they obey this man’s orders, the Taskforce is still as good as done, no matter how the Director plays it.</p><p>Akaashi's phone freezes mid-text, hacked into by Ikehara. But it's already too late because Kenma is deleting every piece of evidence off the system. Not even Engineers will be able to retrieve it anymore. It's a risky move, getting rid something that the future needs, but they have no other choice.</p><p>Akaashi is not going to let the Taskforce crash so pathetically.</p><p>“Don’t you two make a good team, huh!?” Ikehara sounds maniacal. “I like a challenge though, makes things so much more exciting.”</p><p>Akaashi watches more vulgar messages appear on his phone, addressed to him. Kenma shoves himself off the computer, snatching Akaashi’s phone, and fights Ikehara's virus away. “I don’t particularly enjoy this type of challenge.”</p><p>A bang crashes on the other side, and Ikehara yelps. The Warriors are already there. “This isn’t over, shortcake. I’ll make sure you lot get wiped off this damn planet!”</p><p>The call disconnects. Kenma slips and collapses to the floor, light-headed with relief. Akaashi slumps in his chair, peering up at the ceiling full of cobwebs. His phone drops to the floor and the screen smashes. He doesn't care, he'll get a replacement anyway, since Ikehara hacked into it and got past the protective software.</p><p>“We did it?” Kenma's voice sounds like he's swallowed sawdust. “It’s over?”</p><p>Akaashi can’t do anything but nod, but he knows their relief is going to be short-lived. This hasn't ended at all.</p><p>This is only the beginning of their downfall.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>
  <strong>OMAKE</strong>
</p><p>The first snow was promised to arrive before Christmas, then before New Year's Eve, and finally - it came much later than expected. Tokyo woke up to a new year covered in white. </p><p>Akaashi received an invitation to celebrate the New Year with Bokuto and his family. When they woke up and saw a city covered in powder-white snow, they immediately took their thickest coats and went outside.</p><p>Bokuto’s mother managed to convince everyone to have some breakfast before they left, and then, they went to the park. It was covered in snow and a frozen lake, lively with noise.</p><p>When Bokuto started a snowball fight with his sisters, his mother took out her phone to record a video. She watched her children and laughed quietly when pellets of ice spilled down their necks. They had snow-wet hair and cold-reddened cheeks in minutes.</p><p>Akaashi was barely visible in the background of the frame, spectating the snowball fight with a smile on his lips. It was clear he was not enjoying the winter. Akaashi had never been fond of the cold, and his legs quivered under two layers of trousers and the thick socks beneath his boots.</p><p>Shaking snowflakes from his hat, Bokuto noticed Akaashi shivering, and an idea immediately sprung to the forefront his mind. He noticed his scarf had avoided getting wet, so he took it off and approached his friend.</p><p>Time froze quicker than the ice on the lake. Bokuto gently wrapped the scarf, knit by his mother, around Akaashi’s neck until his chin was covered by the soft fabric.</p><p>He beamed and patted his shoulders even though Akaashi was stiff with shock.</p><p>The world seemed to disappear around then until it was only Bokuto and Akaashi left. Bokuto's red nose scrunched when he beamed. Snow soaked into his hair. Liquid gold eyes reflected Akaashi's own of turquoise green and blue.</p><p>People often said that Bokuto was as radiant as the sun. Bokuto always wanted to disagree when they told him that. If he was the sun, then what would Akaashi be compared to? </p><p>Because in his eyes, it was Akaashi who was the sun, the stars, and the world all wrapped into one magnificent human. When Bokuto's light dimmed, he radiated. When Bokuto spiked a volleyball over the net, it was Akaashi who shined the most. When Bokuto was afraid he could no longer touch the ground, Akaashi was there to pull him back.</p><p>Akaashi had always silently agreed with people's speculations of Bokuto. After all, if Bokuto was not like the sun, why did Akaashi's heart light up when he entered a room? Why was it, that he found himself wishing so much to curve his palm to Bokuto's cheekbone, so it would be rosy from his warmth, not the biting frost?</p><p>Why was it that when Akaashi looked at Bokuto, he saw a star that shined brighter than the sun?</p><p>Although, the sun is also a star, is it not?</p><p>There were moments when the Time Operative wondered if Akaashi Keiji's affections for Bokuto Koutarou were mutual. Because if they were, why had nothing ever happened between them when he was alive? </p><p>Maybe he didn't like the other after all.</p><p>But as he observed and lived Akaashi Keiji's different, ordinary life, he flashed back to that moment in the snow and realised that, perhaps, Akaashi Keiji had been in love with Bokuto Koutarou all along too.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>this chapter has actually been written up for a while, but it needed uhhhh Serious Editing because of a lot of plot holes lol so I’ve had to rewrite this again. uni has also overwhelmed me as I currently have to do like, six group assignments at once, so obviously that’s been slowing down my progress i'm sorryyy but updates probably won't be as quick as i'd like...</p>
<p>
  <strong>Additional chapter warnings: Violence and Injury</strong>
</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Anti-Operative Volunteers.” The door closes with a slam, automatic locks clicking into place as Kenma saunters into the office. “We managed to contact our Engineer unit again, and got intel on who this Ikehara bastard is affiliated with.”</p>
<p>Akaashi is sprawled out on the sofa bed, sipping on some coffee. This is his third cup of the day and never has he enjoyed the taste of overpriced coffee from a multinational enterprise as much as today.</p>
<p>Kenma swipes through his tablet. “You remember the Anti-Operative Volunteers, right? The ones who spewed cult-level bullshit about humanity’s great demise? Yeah, turns out they don’t wanna miss the 21<sup>st</sup> century party.”</p>
<p>In the future, there had been extremists who stood against the Taskforce, and they called themselves the Anti-Operative Volunteers. They didn’t believe the world deserved to be saved because if <em>they</em> had to suffer their entire lives – then others ought to share the same fate, right? At least, that's the belief they held.</p>
<p>Their influence wasn’t concerning enough to garner attention from local Faction Councils, let alone the Taskforce. But, even the slightest alteration in the 21<sup>st</sup> could have changed that. At least, it changed enough for them to tamper with the system – and somehow go to the 21<sup>st</sup> too.</p>
<p>It’s strange – agents receive updates about timeline changes on an almost-quotidian basis. Engineers always tell them that the earth is reviving. They have rain now. And a few animal species too. Bare minimum improvements – but far better than what Akaashi or Kenma had.</p>
<p>So why has the Anti-Operative’s reputation grown at such an exponential rate, if things were getting better?</p>
<p>“Ikehara Jirou isn’t a host to an Anti-Operative member, but he is one of their accomplices.” Kenma explains. “He’s just a regular person in the 21<sup>st</sup>.”</p>
<p>Ikehara Jirou managed to get away. When the Warriors caught him, Anti-Operative backup came to rescue him. The Warrior unit was left with no choice but to let them escape in lieu of prioritising their own lives – they were too dangerous and unpredictable to face right now, especially with so little information on their end.</p>
<p>"Obviously, Ikehara's involvement confirms that Anti-Operatives are manipulating innocent individuals into their scheme." Kenma presents the tablet towards Akaashi. He sits up with a groan and leans closer to examine screen. "The other Strategists figure it's because of Protocol Three - the Volunteers are betting on the fact we won't kill innocent people - since we'll get forcibly overridden if we do.”</p>
<p>The faint throb of a headache builds up behind Akaashi’s temple.</p>
<p>“That’s not the only bad news.” Kenma swipes to another tab. "AI should've been able to override Ikehara’s consciousness the moment he got caught tampering with our system. For some reason, it wasn’t able to do that – actually, he was supposed to die a few months ago, but didn’t.”</p>
<p>“How’s that possible?” Akaashi frowns. “Is it because of the system tamper? Was it rigged it so it couldn’t forcibly override someone’s consciousness?”</p>
<p>Kenma flashes a dry smile. “That’s exactly what the other Strategists theorised too. You really do share one braincell.”</p>
<p>Akaashi shuts his eyes and bites his tongue so he won't spew some nasty retort. He hates being compared to other Strategists because it reminds him of how alike they really are - down to their most basic deductions. “Ikehara’s name was on the Engineer’s obituary list a few months ago. He was supposed to die in that car crash in the northern district – so I’m guessing Anti-Operative Volunteers played a part in that too.”</p>
<p>“Yep, that’s probably how it went.” Kenma presses his lips into a thing line. “Also, our Warriors managed to identify some of the people who rescued Ikehara’s smarmy ass.”</p>
<p>Akaashi motions for the tablet and examines the list of names.</p>
<p>“I worked with the other Hackers to identify the hosts – none of them are on our obituary records for any recent dates in the timeline.” Kenma points to the names with his stylus pen.</p>
<p>
  <em>I’m not going to let more innocent people die by your filthy hands!</em>
</p>
<p>“How ironic.” Akaashi drones. From the way Ikehara’s discerned it, the Taskforce was the one to be framed the killer.</p>
<p>Akaashi taps through the names to read further details about the hosts. Since they’ve disobeyed the law of natural order, it’ll be much harder to track these people.</p>
<p>Not even the Director ever suggested to change the policy which forbid their organisation from utilising individuals not on the list for their goal – even if the benefits could give them staggering success in so many scenarios.</p>
<p>Yet these people have absolutely no qualms with it.</p>
<p>Kenma chugs his coffee in what looks like two gulps. He ordered it without any milk or sugar, or the syrups he likes. Just straight caffeine. If Akaashi wasn't aware already, witnessing Kenma down his coffee like a shot of tequila would be enough to realise how shit the situation is.</p>
<p>Protocol 0 terminated when Ikehara escaped, with the Director deeming it safe enough for Time Operatives to resume their host’s lives. It isn’t over though, not in the slightest. Their information is lacking, and with insufficient preparations, they constantly dance with danger.</p>
<p>Kenma sits at his computer, turning his amber gaze to Akaashi. “Keiji, you’re aware we had direct orders to de-escalate the situation with Ikehara, right?”</p>
<p>His voice is deathly serious. Akaashi places the tablet on the sofa bed, purposely avoiding Kenma’s stare.</p>
<p>“We were given <em>direct orders</em> to avoid compromising the Taskforce. Technically, what you did was disobey the chain of command,” the empty coffee cup plonks on the desk, “and the only reason you’re still alive right now is because your spontaneous plan succeeded.”</p>
<p>“I know.” Jumping to his feet, Akaashi grabs Kenma’s coffee and makes to leave the office. This is a dangerous game to play, talking like this. So Kenma doesn’t argue any further and Akaashi rolls his shoulders to ease the tension in them as he grips the doorhandle.</p>
<p>There are two computers, one tablet, and two smartphones in this office. If the wrong thing slips past someone’s tongue, it’ll be over for them.</p>
<p>Perhaps an apology sits on the fence between guarded utopia and dangerous territory – at the very least, he should assure Kenma he won’t do something like that again. But they both know he would be lying.</p>
<p>“Please don’t… don’t do that again,” Kenma pleads quietly, “I don’t want to lose you because of some stupid sacrificial ploy.”</p>
<p>It’s the last thing he hears before the door shuts and locks behind him.</p>
<p>The Director ordered them to cooperate with Ikehara’s demands in the hopes of achieving a scenario where the Taskforce won’t get exposed. To repay the favour, Ikehara would acquire the Time Operatives. Like they’re nothing but toys to hand from one greedy child to another.</p>
<p>Akaashi didn’t want that to happen. Not to him, and – recalling Ikehara’s sleazy comments – especially not to Kenma.</p>
<p>The risk of his unpremeditated actions hadn't really hit him in that moment. How huge a gamble he took by saying <em>fuck it</em> and leaping off that metaphorical cliff when he ordered the Warriors to kill Ikehara.</p>
<p>As a Strategist, he has the power to command other agents – but only in cases where the Director’s orders don’t reach them. They had received their orders, and Akaashi disobeyed them. Like Kenma said, the only reason he still has his consciousness intact is because everything ended with a favourable outcome.</p>
<p>If his ballpark plan failed, though… he knows what happens next.</p>
<p>He can reason with the command until his voice is hoarse; recite in detail what would've happened if they gave themselves up to Ikehara – and, inevitably, the Anti-Operative Volunteers. The Taskforce would've gotten exposed regardless of what conditions they proposed. The entire operation would've gotten completely and utterly destroyed to the point where the future will have no hope of saving itself. Because that’s the Anti-Operative’s goal, and they almost fell right into their ruse.</p>
<p>If the command decided to listen to his reasons or not… well, it would depend on their mood. If he caught them after recalibrations, maybe they’d be more lenient.</p>
<p>
  <em>You’re not here to be the heroes.</em>
</p>
<p>Ikehara had said that over the comms and it made him realise - Akaashi never considered them as heroes. The Taskforce is not like that. This entire ordeal of what is right and wrong has never been clear to him, because the only thing he has ever known is what was passed down to him by his Strategist instructors. Whether those things were good or bad, he couldn’t tell you even if he was being held at gunpoint. Akaashi merely did the only thing he could to survive.</p>
<p><em>And that there is the problem</em>, he recognises whilst tossing their coffee away. What he had done would be considered wrong, according to the philosophy of his instructors and the intelligence machines running this organisation. At that moment, he willingly put his own life, along with Kenma’s, above the mission.</p>
<p>He got greedy.</p>
<p>The new phone in his pocket vibrates, playing the conventional message tone he hasn’t had time to change yet. An assortment of unread texts greets him when he opens the LINE app, from many days prior.</p>
<p>
  <strong>[Bokuto; Friday, 5:20PM]: </strong>
  <em>hey akaashi thought you were coming to practice today??</em>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>[Bokuto; Friday, 5:20PM]: </strong>
  <em>or maybe you said you couldnt come??? aaah i dont remember now ( </em>
  <em>≧</em>
  <em>Д</em>
  <em>≦</em>
  <em>)</em>
</p>
<p><strong>[Bokuto; Friday, 5:25PM</strong>]: <em>well guess youre probably busy with things for the summer course now…</em></p>
<p>
  <strong>[Bokuto; Friday, 5:26PM]: </strong>
  <em>hope youre okay tho lemme know how youre doing with things when ur not busy!</em>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>[Bokuto; Friday, 5:27PM]: </strong>
  <em>good luck with everything and hope youre doing okay!!make sure you take care of yourself and eat well and sleep early!</em>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>[Bokuto; Friday, 5:27PM]: </strong>
  <em>gotta go coach is yellin at me take care &lt;3</em>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>[Bokuto; Monday, 10:46AM]: </strong>
  <em>i hope your summer classes are going well! must be rly hectic tho</em>
  <em>（／</em>
  <em>_</em>
  <em>＼）</em>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>[Bokuto; Tuesday, 2:01PM]: </strong>
  <em>things are boring without u tho… i’ve got nothing to do ( ´</em>
  <em>△</em>
  <em>｀</em>
  <em>) akaaaaashiiii come back and toss for meeeee</em>
</p>
<p>He finds himself smiling whilst scrolling through, but an undercurrent of guilt sours his mood. The new smartphone is weird to hold, especially when he types - it's too big and too thin. But Kenma bought him the latest version on the market - with express shipping - Akaashi didn't have a choice in the matter.</p>
<p>
  <strong>[Akaashi; Tuesday, 2:13PM]: </strong>
  <em>i’m sorry for not replying so long, bokuto-san</em>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>[Akaashi; Tuesday, 2:13PM]: </strong>
  <em>lab prep and classes have been rly busy</em>
</p>
<p>The lies come to him with ease. He should feel bad for messing up everything Akaashi Keiji worked so hard to achieve. A life where he didn’t depend on his parents, where he could be free from their permanent chains around him. He should be pursuing a better life for his host, honouring it.</p>
<p>He should be doing a lot of things, but the part of him that wants to struggles with even a simple assignment.</p>
<p>Studying 21<sup>st</sup> century medicine is useless when it is <em>so</em> outdated. Sure, a lot what he knows doesn’t yet exist - but still - it’s so impractical to unlearn what will be taught later in the future – especially when it’s so much more beneficial.</p>
<p>He doesn’t particularly care for missing the summer course either. He’s actually quite relieved to have an excuse not to go. Although it’d be better if the situation that led to this outcome was different; where he could choose not to go because he didn't want to, and not the cause of uncontrollable forces like Protocol 0.</p>
<p>His phone vibrates with another message.</p>
<p>
  <strong>[Bokuto; Tuesday, 2:16PM]: </strong>
  <em>akaashi!!!!! omg i was rly staring to worry about you ( ´</em>
  <em>△</em>
  <em>｀</em>
  <em>)</em>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>[Bokuto; Tuesday, 2:16PM]: </strong>
  <em>you’ve been afk the entire weekend and then summer started and u still didnt come back and idk… just got a bit worried about you...</em>
</p>
<p>He keeps spelling <em>you</em> differently.</p>
<p>Guilt tears at him, realising he ghosted Bokuto the entire weekend. Not like he had much of a choice, nor is it something he can explain either, but it still prickles at his conscience. The lies pile on top of each other until Akaashi can no longer envisage a time when he said something truthful.</p>
<p>His brain is too overloaded to deliberate this. He needs to go home and sleep but there’s still too much left to do.</p>
<p>The Director sent an order to locate the Anti-Operative Volunteers, find out who's allying with them, why they're here, and what they want. Engineers are trying to fix the system, and figure out who is tampering with it in the future, so they have no time or resources to help. The Time Operatives have to fend for themselves.</p>
<p>Not to mention the regular work the agents must carry out. Butterfly missions, unit tasks, and - Akaashi groans internally - the fucking catastrophe predicted to occur next week. The one Akaashi and Kenma were assigned before even leaving the future; stopping an explosion that will decimate the entire city.</p>
<p>Akaashi can bet his consciousness that Anti-Operative Volunteers will intervene. It’d be stupid not to. At least they won’t have the element of surprise on them.</p>
<p>
  <strong>[Bokuto; Tuesday, 4:28PM]: </strong>
  <em>btw btw i wanted to ask u something…</em>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>[Bokuto; Tuesday, 4:28PM]: </strong>
  <em>do u think you could help me with something before the training camp?</em>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>[Akaashi; Tuesday, 4:31PM]: </strong>
  <em>what is it? extra training?</em>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>[Bokuto; Tuesday, 4:31PM]: </strong>
  <em>actually i kinda wanna do something for the team…</em>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>[Bokuto; Tuesday, 4:32PM]: </strong>
  <em>i wanna make them something to eat on the trip there? a lotta members dont eat breakfast and since it might take a while to get there and settle in i was thinking of making them some snacks on the way</em>
</p>
<p>Akaashi’s heart squeezes.</p>
<p>
  <strong>[Bokuto; Tuesday, 4:33PM]: </strong>
  <em>it wont be anything difficult just tamagoyaki or onigiri or something bc theyre quick and easy to make</em>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>[Bokuto; Tuesday, 4:33PM]: </strong>
  <em>but since theres no way i can cook in the dorms i was wondering if I could do it at your place???</em>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>[Akaashi; Tuesday, 4:34PM]: </strong>
  <em>of course i dont mind, bokuto-san. it’s rly sweet of you to be so considerate of our teammates. you can visit the night before we go, and we can prepare it together</em>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>[Bokuto; Tuesday, 4:34PM]: </strong>
  <em>ahhhh youre rly the best ever akaashi!!! i’m getting all hyped now!</em>
</p>
<p>He can see his reflection on his phone when the screen flicks off, and he notices how pronounced his dimples are.</p>
<p>
  <strong>[Akaashi; Tuesday, 4:34PM]: </strong>
  <em>me too. i’m excited to see you again, bokuto-san.</em>
</p>
<p>He finds that he means it.</p>
<p>--</p>
<p>Perhaps he needed to consider some factors before inviting Bokuto to his apartment, because they go as follows:</p>
<p>Number one: Akaashi doesn't know how to cook. He's got the basics down (he can even cook meat now), but is definitely nowhere near Akaashi Keiji’s previous expertise. He scrolled through quite a few recipe blogs to figure out how tamagoyaki is made.</p>
<p>Number two: Bokuto is not good at cooking. He learned this before coming to the 21<sup>st</sup> - video evidence has solidified his (lack of) skills in time. On one such occasion, Bokuto somehow managed to set a pan on fire but, funny enough, all the ingredients inside the pan remained <em>raw</em>.</p>
<p>Last one. Number three: Akaashi has not cleaned the apartment in weeks. This isn’t a problem that can't be explained away as laziness. Bokuto would understand if Akaashi explained that summer class got in the way of his habitual cleaning routine. Bokuto would have accepted it as truth, and probably kindly offered to help clean.</p>
<p>No, that’s not the issue.</p>
<p>The issue is that Bokuto is at his door, and Akaashi has illegal firearms and weapons scattered on the living room floor.</p>
<p>He has no choice but to let Bokuto in. Bokuto has his chin raised, chest puffed out in pride, exhibiting two bags of food from the supermarket like he’s from an advertisement. There are about a dozen eggs in there. “I got sweet potatoes too. Y'know, for dinner. Because I - well, I thought we should probably eat something too."</p>
<p>Akaashi pans from the bags up to Bokuto, and forces his features to relax. “Yes, that’s… that’s great, Bokuto-san.”</p>
<p>Bokuto barely has time to slide on some slippers before Akaashi is pushing him into the kitchen. The living room doesn’t have a door to shut it out of sight, so he needs to figure out how the hell to hide a pile of weapons from Bokuto without being spotted.</p>
<p>So Akaashi makes a big deal of paying Bokuto back for the food he's bought, and doesn't listen to any protests. He directs Bokuto to put food in the fridge and wash the vegetables before tiptoeing into the living room.</p>
<p>The centre open space is, thankfully, clear. The majority of his arsenal is sprawled on the couch. So Akaashi buckles down and tries to stuff everything into the luggage trunk. First, the guns, the knives, and then Akaashi has to disassemble his sniper rifle before putting it away. Last are the knives and ammo cases, and the trunk struggles to fit them all in. Akaashi fights to zip it closed, cringing with how loud the clunk of metal and plastic is from inside.</p>
<p>(Maybe he took one too many weapons back from the Mech. Operative station...)</p>
<p>Just as he pushes the trunk under the couch, Bokuto enters the living room.</p>
<p>“Uh... I can’t find my wallet.” Is the first lie to come to Akaashi's verdict, the simplest explanation as to why he's on all fours, halfway under the sofa. “I last saw it in the here, but it’s… gone.”</p>
<p>“Want me to help you look for it?” Bokuto immediately offers, beginning to rummage through scattered novels on a low shelf.</p>
<p>When he can't find it, he makes his way to the armchair just when Akaashi zeroes in on the little handgun there.</p>
<p>Oh fuck.</p>
<p>Bokuto doesn't spare a glance at the armchair, patting the cushions, and Akaashi takes the chance to swipe the handgun, shoving it into the pocket of his sweatpants with a sigh of relief. The embarrassing reveal that his wallet was in his bedroom the whole time is a small price to pay if it means Bokuto doesn't find the military-grade munitions hidden in his apartment.</p>
<p>All is well now.</p>
<p>“Is that a gun in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?”</p>
<p>Akaashi needs to stop. Just.</p>
<p>He needs to not think. Ever again.</p>
<p>Because it's like whenever he has any positive expectations, the universe manifests the opposite.</p>
<p>This life has drastically declined in value from a coming-of-age slice of life romance to a tragicomic drama. And it isn’t even an enjoyable one.</p>
<p>After his comment, Bokuto’s grin transforms into a lecherous smirk in a way that is supposed to be a joke. Akaashi does not take it as a joke. Not at all.</p>
<p>How is he supposed to answer that? Yes, it’s a gun? No, it’s my non-existent boner?</p>
<p>There's no way to win this.</p>
<p>“D-don’t be ridiculous!” His voice squeaks in a way he’s never heard before, as he pulls the front of his shirt to cover his crotch.</p>
<p>Bokuto makes a placating gesture even as he lets out a shameless cackle. Akaashi shoots him a withering glare, but it has no heat because his face is so red. He whirls around and stomps to his bedroom, where he knew his wallet was the entire time, so he won’t have to continue this conversation with Bokuto any longer.</p>
<p>The handgun gets buried in a sock drawer, and Akaashi grabs some money from his wallet (and a little extra), returning to shove it at Bokuto’s chest with enough strength to push his hips into the kitchen counter. Bokuto only giggles. Vehemently ignoring the promiscuous jokes, Akaashi pushes him to chop vegetables.</p>
<p>Cooking could have gone better; if Akaashi was a good chef and Bokuto wasn’t a hazard to society. But their strengths balance out their shortcomings. Bokuto is forbidden from touching any pans or hot objects, appointed to cutting and mixing duty. Akaashi uses the cooking skills he learned overnight to layer the eggs into some semblance of tamagoyaki. Considering he's never cooked eggs before, it turns out pretty well.</p>
<p>They make a good team. Decent. They balance each other out. Kind of.</p>
<p>Bokuto sets out plastic lunchboxes as Akaashi cuts the tamagoyaki into smaller pieces, distributing them into the boxes before they go in the fridge. Everything gets packed for tomorrow, and they’re finished (thirty minutes over the expected cooking time). Bokuto beams at Akaashi like he hung the sun and the moon and all of the stars in the sky. He can practically visualise the sparkles of joy surrounding him. Akaashi responds with a small quirk of his lips.</p>
<p>Bokuto's own mellows into something soft and self-satisfied. Like he’s proud to elicit any kind of reaction from Akaashi at all. His eyes dart to Akaashi’s lips. Akaashi pretends he doesn’t notice.</p>
<p>“It’s nice to hang out with you again.” Says Bokuto, and he hums in agreement. “I got worried when you didn’t reply for so long... thought something happened to you.”</p>
<p>“I’m sorry, I just got… held up…” He winces internally, mood souring with the lie. “I started to… well, I dunno, I guess I started panicking a little bit… about the summer course.”</p>
<p>With a slight tilt of his head, Bokuto asks, “why’s that?”</p>
<p>Akaashi bites his lip. To Bokuto, it probably gives off the impression that he’s hesitating to open up about his struggles. “I got… stressed… when I saw the curriculum, I freaked out about not being able to keep up with all the other students, I guess.”</p>
<p>Akaashi Keiji had been a prodigy in his course. He used to be the smartest student in his year, well on the way to attending a prestigious med school once his three years were up. The person who arrived to replace him is just some genius who doesn’t give a shit. About any of that stuff.</p>
<p>He is seriously the worst.</p>
<p>He spots the letter on the table. “Oh, and I got an eviction note. A while ago.”</p>
<p>“Seriously!?” Bokuto gasps. “Akaashi, that’s the worst!”</p>
<p>He sighs. “Yeah, so I – you can guess why I’ve been kind of… weird lately.”</p>
<p>“I’m sorry, Akaashi. I had no idea.” Bokuto deflates with a frown. "You've been dealing with all that stuff by yourself... it must've been hard."</p>
<p>Akaashi wipes the counter so his hands have something to do.</p>
<p>"I-I know you've been closed off lately and... and distant," Bokuto says with a nuance of dejection. "But I'm here for you, yeah? If you wanna laugh or cry or vent or just... have a distraction from your worries. I'm here for you."</p>
<p>Akaashi's throat is strangely tight.</p>
<p>"You're my best friend, you know that, right?" Bokuto continues, leaning on the counter to meet Akaashi's gaze. "I want to be there for you, no matter what you're going through. Whether it's your parents or, or university stress, or any other issue going on in that smart little head of yours. I wanna be there to support you. Just like you've done for me."</p>
<p>Something wrenches and twists in his ribs.</p>
<p>
  <em>I wish I could tell you. </em>
</p>
<p>"Th-thank you, Bokuto-san." Akaashi stutters. "You're a wonderful friend, and I'm sorry to make you feel like I don't trust you."</p>
<p>
  <em>I wish I could tell you everything.</em>
</p>
<p>He knows he can't. Even if Protocol permitted it, he never wants to drag Bokuto into his world. That would be too cruel.</p>
<p>"I've been struggling with finding a new place to live." At least that's one truth. It's a start anyway - to alleviate the guilt eating away at him. "I don't want my parents meddling in my life anymore, so I'm not going to tell them about moving out. Do you think you could help me look for a place to stay?"</p>
<p>And Bokuto. Bokuto smiles. His shoulders sag in relief, golden eyes shimmering with fondness and trust and <em>love </em>and it's too much to handle. "Of course."</p>
<p>The clock ticks closer to eight in the evening. Warmth spreads through Akaashi's stomach. Not because of the humid weather. It's something different. The gravitational pull bringing him to a cliffs edge. The limitless universe pushes him to the edge and tells him <em>yeah, it's time to fall</em>.</p>
<p>So Akaashi falls, knowing he is well and truly screwed.</p>
<p>--</p>
<p>Bokuto takes the last bus back to the dorms and when Akaashi is finally able to lock his apartment door, he sinks against it with a sigh.</p>
<p>He enjoyed being in Bokuto’s company again – really. But he was ill-prepared for it. His back was drawn as taut as a piano wire the entire evening from the stress of getting caught, of slipping up.</p>
<p>The cooking utensils are all washed and dried, courtesy of Bokuto, so there is nothing to keep him occupied. Instead, he pulls the weapon trunk out and goes through them with proper care. He selects which weapons to take with him to the training camp – a silenced pistol and an army knife – and hides a few in inconspicuous places through his apartment, as a precaution. The rest go back into hiding.</p>
<p>Akaashi crashes early for the night, knowing it’s his one chance to actually sleep without being woken up for any job.</p>
<p>Before he knows it, it’s four in the morning and he’s on the way to campus, bags of packed tamagoyaki in his arms and a backpack slung over one shoulder. The team scheduled to meet at campus in the morning to take a rented bus to the boarding house.</p>
<p>The streets are quiet so early in the morning but the weather is already stifling. Summer’s heat is relentless and Akaashi doesn’t enjoy it, preferring the cooler temperatures of spring.</p>
<p>He strolls through the park at a leisurely pace, bags swinging gently from his fingertips. Everything is normal until a crinkle of leaves catches his attention, and he spins around. The weight of the gun, hidden beneath his zip-up jacket, is reassuring.</p>
<p>Darkness still shrouds the city. The streetlights flicker on and off, the human silhouette under it comes in and out of sight. Akaashi's blood runs frigid.</p>
<p>“Father, what are you doing here?” Akaashi Keita doesn't move.</p>
<p>The glint of metal drags Akaashi's attention to the gun he holds. He doesn't hesitate to take out his own and point it to his father's head as a pit of fear opens up in his belly.</p>
<p>“I’m not here to hurt you, son.” Akaashi Keita appeases.</p>
<p>“Yeah? Your gun says otherwise.” Keita’s curls of his upper lip in discern.</p>
<p>“I could say the same about yours.” He retorts. “Although I never imagined my own son would one day point a gun at me. But then again, you aren’t him, are you?”</p>
<p>Akaashi startles, paralysed with disbelief. “You’re - you – who are you!?”</p>
<p>Is this another Anti-Operative? Did they kill Akaashi’s father? What about his mother? Why is Akaashi Keita cooperating with the Anti-Operative Volunteers? Why didn’t the Director warn him of this!? Or. Wait. Is he still-?</p>
<p>“I’m still Akaashi Keita,” Keita confirms his suspicions, “nobody replaced my consciousness. Or your mother's.”</p>
<p>The gun rattles in his grip. “Then, what – why are you here? What do you want?”</p>
<p>Oh, this is bad. This is <em>so </em>fucking bad. Akaashi Keita and Yuuko are involved with the Anti-Operative Volunteers. Why? What do they gain, what are they after? Do they want to kill him? Do they intend to do what Ikehara failed, and force Akaashi to comply?</p>
<p>“Like I said, I don’t want to hurt you.” Keita repeats. “I just want to negotiate.”</p>
<p>“Negotiate what?” He snaps. “You want me to give myself in? Kill me?”</p>
<p>“We want the same thing we asked last time.”</p>
<p>
  <em>To use Taskforce agents for the Anti-Operative’s personal agenda.</em>
</p>
<p>Akaashi grits his teeth. “Like hell will I agree to that.”</p>
<p>Keita sighs, like a mentor disappointed in their student. “I’m afraid there aren’t any terms of compromise in our situation.”</p>
<p>“Oh really?” He challenges.</p>
<p>“Are you as fond of that boy as my son was?” Akaashi’s breath shudders. “Bokuto Koutarou, isn’t it?”</p>
<p>The metallic <em>click </em>echoes in the desolate park when the first round of bullets slide into the chamber and Akaashi's fingers twitch on the trigger. “Don’t. You. Dare.”</p>
<p>“I have my orders,” Keita says, “just like you have yours.”</p>
<p>“I don’t care.” Akaashi’s vision flashes red, blinded by pure, unbridled rage. “That is not happening.”</p>
<p>His father gives him a pitying smile. “You don’t get much of a choice in the matter, <em>son</em>.”</p>
<p>For a second, Keita's blank glare flicker to somewhere past Akaashi's shoulder. The tree behind them, old and huge, with branches thick enough to lie on. Someone is up there. Someone with sharpshooter accuracy, capable of blasting a bullet straight through his skull.</p>
<p>“Either you come with me, or we have to do this the hard way.”</p>
<p>Akaashi has no choices left.</p>
<p>So, he <em>makes</em> one.</p>
<p>Veering around, Akaashi shoots the sniper with the accuracy of a trained assassin. He doesn't wait for the body fall from the tree, a sickening dead-weight spatter on the ground enough confirmation on its own. He runs as fast as his trained legs can go, snaking along the path to avoid his father's line of shot. Akaashi Keita isn't a skilled shot by any means, he's aware of that, but some shots still reach close to his feet.</p>
<p>Akaashi can’t risk digging out his phone and sending an emergency signal anybody, so he focuses on outrunning his father, refusing to stop even when his lungs burn. The university gates come into view, open early to accommodate the rental bus inside. He runs through and sees his teammates lining up to climb inside.</p>
<p>Konoha is the first to spot him. He lifts a hand to wave but falters upon noticing Akaashi's frazzled state. “Hey, Akaashi, you good?”</p>
<p>He jumps in after Konoha, the last student on the bus, and the doors close behind him. Everyone has thrown their bags in the overhead compartment and clambered into their seats, and Akaashi launches himself to the back. He almost trips when the driver starts the engine, bouncing over speedbumps without care as it leaves.</p>
<p>At the back window, Akaashi scans out the window, zeroing in on Akaashi Keita as he rounds the corner.</p>
<p>For a moment, Akaashi wonders if he’ll shoot. There would be so many witnesses, but does it matter? He meets his father's eyes, unmoving as the bus puts a distance between them. Keita doesn't raise the gun. The bus swerves towards the main road, and their fight is forced to a temporary truce.</p>
<p>Akaashi sinks into the seat, dismissive of everything except gulping air into his lungs. But when he looks up, half of his teammates are gawking at him with dumbfounded expressions.</p>
<p>“Uhm, Akaashi-senpai, are you okay?” One of their first-years asks.</p>
<p>Akaashi blinks. He holds up the bags full of packed tamagoyaki. It amazes him how it remained intact. “Anyone hungry?”</p>
<p>The food serves as a perfect distraction as they whoop with excitement, praising Akaashi until he admits Bokuto came up with the idea, and then their attention is drawn to the team captain instead. Bokuto preens from the compliments. Akaashi relaxes and tries to catch his breath.</p>
<p>A pair of sweet honey-gold eyes dip to Akaashi’s jacket, unzipped and draped loosely over his torso. It’s a light-weight thing, outlining the muscles on his torso like a detailed drawing, but there’s something else there. A strange shape sticks from Akaashi's side. Something like the safety grip of a pistol.</p>
<p>Sensing the gaze, he regards Bokuto, who furrows his brow, oblivious to Akaashi catching him scrutinising his appearance. Sakurui brings Bokuto out of his daze, shoving tamagoyaki into his mouth.</p>
<p>Akaashi zips up the jacket, making sure it covers the waistband of his shorts, heart pounding in his ears.</p>
<p>
  <em>This is going to be a training camp from hell.</em>
</p>
<p>--</p>
<p>Fukurodani is the first to arrive to the boarding house. The team from Sendai will be arriving later in the morning, since it takes a few hours to get to Tokyo. Each university team gets a room to share with their members, and everyone races to claim the best spots to place their futons.</p>
<p>Bokuto manages to claim the so-called best spot near the aircon. He saves a space for Akaashi beside him, oblivious to his teammates exchanging knowing looks like the sneaky bastards they are. Akaashi knows his face is red.</p>
<p>“We'll start practice in the afternoon.” Coach tells them once they reconvene in the main hall. “We wanna wait for the other teams to arrive too. You can go and eat an early lunch at the restaurant, and explore if you want – just be back before two.”</p>
<p>There’s a chorus of “yes Coach!” and everybody scrambles out the door, full of energy and curiosity. But Bokuto doesn’t rush along with them. Instead, he’s angling his entire body, including his <a href="https://kathysteinemann.com/Musings/toes/">toes</a>, toward Akaashi, like he’s the only one there.</p>
<p>“There’s a convenience store nearby. Wanna get some ice-cream?” Bokuto asks and Akaashi can’t help but immediately agree.</p>
<p>The weather is approaching thirty degrees. Cicadas screech like the chorus of an anthem and birds pick at moss on the rooftops.</p>
<p>They bask in the air-conditioned store for longer than necessary before buying their ice-cream and retracing their steps to settle under the boarding house roof. The sun shines on their legs and turns their knees red.</p>
<p>The matcha ice-cream is already melting in the packet, and they get brain freeze when they eat it too fast. Bokuto whines and Akaashi shudders, and when they squint at each other through the flash of pain, they burst into a fit of giggles.</p>
<p>The cicadas continue to chirp and the sun burns so hot you can see waves of heat rising off the gravel. Not a cloud is in sight, with the sky so bright and blue it hurts to stare at it. A faint breeze brings with it the scent of humidity, freshly painted wood, and matcha ice-cream. The milky sunscreen infused with a hint of camomile glistens on their exposed skin.</p>
<p>Akaashi used to detest summer because, even though they've never been exposed to the sun, its heat travelled through their walls. Summer heat meant no air, it meant no oxygen, sweating so much and collapsing from dehydration. It meant the elderly died too soon, the sick incapable of making it through another day. It meant water was rationed so scarcely, Akaashi thought he’d go mad from dehydration.</p>
<p>And one time, it meant the air became so hot it started to burn his skin too.</p>
<p>He looks at his hands, meandering up his forearms and to his shoulder, covered by a loose t-shirt. His fingers are a little sticky with melted ice-cream, but his skin is sun-freckled and blister-free. Of course, even Akaashi Keiji has some scars – a little nick on his elbow, or a scratch by his wrist bone.</p>
<p>But none of them are burn scars travelling from his fingertips up to-</p>
<p>He’s startled out of his thoughts when Bokuto lies down on the wooden floor by his thigh. He tilts upside-down, blinking with curiosity, and his white lashes flutter. “Whatcha thinkin’ about, ‘kaashi?”</p>
<p>The smell of summer and matcha clings to Bokuto with the familiar scent he aches to keep close. “Nothing important, Bokuto-san. I just got lost in my head a little bit.”</p>
<p>“Nothing serious?”</p>
<p>“No. Nothing serious.”</p>
<p>“That’s good.” Bokuto readjusts to find a comfortable position. “At least for this week, we can forget about our worries and just play volleyball. No more conjuring-up’s about stressful crap, you hear me? We’re going to enjoy this week.”</p>
<p>His knife presses into him under his shorts. Akaashi smiles sadly. <em>I wish I could enjoy it with you, I really do.</em></p>
<p>He pat-pats his thigh. “Rest here.”</p>
<p>Bokuto springs up so fast, Akaashi flinches in surprise. “Huh?”</p>
<p>Akaashi points to his thigh again, cautiously saying, “You can rest your head. On my lap. If you want?”</p>
<p>Bokuto blinks.</p>
<p>“Because the- the flooring is uncomfortable,” he rushes to explain, “so… it’d be less painful on your head if you rest on my legs.”</p>
<p>Bokuto’s face is bright red. “Oh.”</p>
<p>Akaashi pushes on. “Get some rest before practice starts. I’ll wake you up when it’s time to go.”</p>
<p>Gradually, Bokuto crawls over to lay on Akaashi's thighs. He hovers like he's afraid to put his entire weight on him, but finally relents. The tips of sugar-powder white hair tickle the exposed part of Akaashi's leg.</p>
<p>Bokuto hums in contentment.</p>
<p>“This is much nicer,” his sigh tickles Akaashi’s skin, “thanks for lending me your lap, Akaashi.”</p>
<p>Akaashi chuckles. If his fingers weren’t sticky with ice-cream, he might’ve done something reckless like run them through Bokuto’s hair. Small mercies.</p>
<p>Instead, he absorbs the view, the waves of heat on the ground, and the big open pitch separating the boarding house from the training area. The doors are open and, inside, Coach is assessing the interior. When the faintest chill of a breeze pass over the hair on his neck. He relishes in it, and Bokuto’s body shudders from it.</p>
<p>The wind brings the scent of the ocean with it. The sea is a twenty-minute walk away. The mission destination is thirty minutes away, so close to where they are now, it makes worry churn in his stomach. Four days from now, they’ll have to stop an explosion powerful enough to take out all of Tokyo at once.</p>
<p>Not to mention, the threat of the Anti-Operative Volunteers attacking looms over them. If they stop the agents from completing the mission, if they can’t make it in time, it’ll all be over. The threat of Akaashi Keita and Akaashi Yuuko hunting him down – hunting anyone down is now a constant concern in the back of his mind.</p>
<p>Bokuto’s movements bring his attention back to the present. Delicate white eyelashes caress Bokuto's cheekbones, and a smile edges on his lips as he sleeps.</p>
<p>Akaashi closes his eyes and savours the moment. Just for now, he can forget his worries and rest.</p>
<p>--</p>
<p>An hour passes before the other university teams arrive one after the other. Bokuto got woken up by the noise of buses and chatter, in awe of all the different teams here. Among them, Akaashi spots a familiar red jersey. Kenma looks up from his phone when he picks up on his gaze and immediately spots Akaashi.</p>
<p>He shoots him a peace-sign, which Akaashi subtly reciprocates, right as someone slings an arm over Kenma’s shoulder. Because wherever Kenma goes, Kuroo Tetsurou is never far behind.</p>
<p>Kuroo Tetsurou is artful and vexing and all-seeing in a way that makes him dominate any room he's in. His wild hair, those calculative eyes, and that height makes you feel weary of him. And yet, there's a trace of something else there. Something which overturns all those preconceptions.</p>
<p>A tenderness to the laugh lines in the corners of his eyes. A gentleness to his mannerisms that Akaashi didn't expect him to possess. The <em>bad boy</em> persona is replaced by somebody calmer, softer, and safer. The person he becomes when he's with Kenma.</p>
<p>Kuroo Tetsurou is a complete and utter softie around Kozume Kenma.</p>
<p>The gym is full of members attempting to tower over each other in height, or make their presence known through the sheer power of their aura begging for the world's attention. Much to the surprise of every agent present, none of them are hostile. They politely introduce themselves to other teams and talk amongst each other. When the coaches of the different teams gather, the members line up according to their university and bow. The team captains introduce their universities: Ubugawa, Fukurodani, Shinzen, Nekoma, Karasuno.</p>
<p>They’re split into one-on-one practice matches. Because of the odd number, Ubugawa is chosen at random to sit out the first match. The others are split; Shinzen versus Karasuno, and Fukurodani versus Nekoma.</p>
<p>Fukurodani does their usual stretch routine. Akaashi leans down to touch the ground, watching Nekoma as he stretches upside-down. Kenma dropping his jacket next to Kuroo’s in a corner, and follows to do their stretches too.</p>
<p>Once both teams are on the court with their starting players, Nekoma gathers in a circle.</p>
<p>“We’re like the blood in our veins-” (“Stop, Kuroo, it’s embarrassing-”, “Shush, Kenma, let us do <em>the thing</em>.”) “-We must flow without stopping. Keep your oxygen moving and your mind working.”</p>
<p><em>How fitting</em>, Akaashi muses. Kenma catches his eye whilst getting into position, flushing with mortification. Akaashi suppresses a snort.</p>
<p>The whistle blows, and the match begins.</p>
<p>Kenma takes advantage of his agility to pull off some unpredictable stunts. He dumps the ball over the net when his opponent least expects it, tricks the blockers when he's setting. Akaashi utilises the tosses he's practiced with each member in the team to break through Nekoma's unbreakable blocks. It's only the first match, but a thrill of excitement courses through him.</p>
<p>In the end, Nekoma wins, and Fukurodani has to do the flying dives as punishment. They move on to another team, and play another match. It feels like only a few minutes passed, but then, the coaches blow the whistle to get everyone's attention, announcing it’s time for dinner.</p>
<p>Exhaustion has yet to hit him. His heart thuds against his chest, but he's a little disappointed to leave. His tactics and strategies were on-point today</p>
<p>The restaurant is owned by the same people who run the boarding house. It's large, but it struggles to host all five teams. The Fukurodani members have to squeeze into a table with some of the Karasuno players.</p>
<p>Karasuno is a fascinating team to observe. They're powerful players who rose up the ranks in recent years, but there's a sense of chaos in their group that follows them no matter where they go or who they're with. It makes them seem less detached and intimidating. The Fukurodani players have no problem going straight to full-on conversations with them.</p>
<p>One player in particular catches Akaashi's attention. The short middle blocker with fiery hair and an attentive focus in his gaze. He feels a little familiar, even though he never saw him before today. The way he carries himself, how he examines the table. Monitoring and analysing.</p>
<p>It dawns on Akaashi when the boy - Hinata - joins him to go get drinks from the vending machine. They stroll into the summer air, swatting mosquitos away, and Hinata looks up at him with a raised brow. "I was worried I'd never find another Strategist in the 21<sup>st</sup>."</p>
<p>Akaashi pauses in the middle of the patio. "So you're one of the Time Operatives on this job with me?"</p>
<p>“Time Operative 4009, Hinata Shouyou, at your service.” He introduces himself, bright like sunlight on powdered snow. Akaashi never met a Strategist as happy-go-lucky as this one. He wonders if they’ll be able to get along.</p>
<p>“I’m Time Operative 4028, Akaashi Keiji.” He pushes some coins into the vending machine. “It’s nice to meet you.”</p>
<p>"Wow, you’ve no idea how relieved I am to finally be around someone like me." Hinata beams, wriggling on the spot in excitement. "Don't get me wrong, all agents are super cool, but sometimes, it’s nice to be around someone who gets you, right?”</p>
<p>Akaashi can't say he agrees so he just hums as he pulls out the carton of juice, and waits for Hinata to buy his drinks. “You know who else be with us for this?”</p>
<p>“Not all of them.” Hinata shoves some coins into the machine and curses when it spits them back out. “I’m friends with our Healer, and the others are from Sendai too. They’re joining us later though. The two Warriors.”</p>
<p>“I’m close to one of the Hackers.” He explains. “They’ve given us a nice, balanced team to work with for once.”</p>
<p>“Tell me about it,” Hinata groans, “I’ve dealt with way too many Warriors to have the patience for them anymore.”</p>
<p>Hinata is an interesting Strategist, uncharacteristically bright. Either he's excellent at playing his host's role, or he's just that naturally chipper. It’s a rarity to see a Strategist who isn’t close to robotic in their nature. They're trained to be intelligence systems for the Taskforce. Expressing emotions is unnecessary. It’s a nuisance, actually.</p>
<p>Back at the restaurant, Hinata distributes the cartons to his friends. They pat his back and ruffle his fluffy hair as thanks, and the dark-eyed setter grunts when Hinata places a milk carton in front of it. It instantly sparks an argument between the two, something about learning to appreciate what Hinata does for Kageyama – right, that’s his name.</p>
<p>(Although Akaashi can see Kageyama suppressing a grin through the entire dispute.)</p>
<p>Hinata is fully-integrated into this group - into his host's life - to the point where Akaashi could easily mistake him for a normal person. He notices how the freckled pinch-server, Yamaguchi Tadashi, stands out and deduces that he must be the Healer Hinata mentioned. It becomes obvious when he visibly fights the urge to stop their libero from toppling out of his chair. Healers always tend to inherit a protective streak from their training, no matter who they're with.</p>
<p>When the food is finished, and they thanked the owners, Akaashi is the one physically dragging Bokuto for extra practice. They're not the only ones with the same idea, dozens of other university players already on the courts. Kuroo and Kenma are among them.</p>
<p>"Well, well, well, if it isn't Fukurodani's captain, and his little setter friend too." Kuroo calls them out. "One of the top five aces, and losing to little old Nekoma? Feels like I just defeated the world."</p>
<p>“Kuroo, don’t provoke other players” Kenma gives a noncommittal retort, like he’s already given up trying to pacify the human version of chaos, “I'm not helping you if you get into a fight."</p>
<p>“Kyanma, you wound me.” Kenma scowls while his cheeks glow pink.</p>
<p>Akaashi raises a brow and suppresses a simper playing on his lips. <em>Kyanma?</em></p>
<p>“I don’t wanna fight you, bedhead weirdo,” Bokuto retorts, and Kuroo sputters at the nickname, “but I'll definitely kick your ass at volleyball. Let’s do it, right now!”</p>
<p>Bokuto drags Akaashi into their impromptu match, and a long-legged first-year from Nekoma joins them with a blocker from Shinzen. They play with more havoc than the sincere desire to surpass their opponent. Jokes and playful insults and poking tongues are thrown across the net, and Akaashi realises he’s witnessing the birth of a catastrophic friendship.</p>
<p>He's proven correct. They end the match after losing count of the scores, and Bokuto exchanges a sombre handshake with Kuroo. Like two idiots pretending they’re going out to war to cement their friendship on the battlefield, and ensuring it will become another part of this life Akaashi will have to manage. "Ha! I can't believe it, you're not so bad, owl boy!"</p>
<p>“Owl boy…” Kenma mouths to himself. Akaashi snorts behind his hand.</p>
<p>But maybe it won't be so bad. Kenma and Akaashi exchange a wordless look before stepping up to introduce themselves once again. After all, isn't this the perfect opportunity for them to meet?</p>
<p>Not as Time Operatives, but two ordinary friends.</p>
<p>--</p>
<p>The beanpole-tall first-year turns out to be another Time Operative. A Hacker like Kenma. His name is Haiba Lev, only recently arrived to the 21<sup>st</sup>. Kenma unwillingly took him under his wing because the kid is an absolute mess when it comes to volleyball - and his hacking leaves Kenma teetering on the edge of a breakdown.</p>
<p>"He's just... such a mess." Kenma's features contort into a stunned grimace. "Pure chaos. I can't believe he's ever managed to get anything done properly."</p>
<p>"Oi, my skills aren't <em>that </em>terrible!" Lev retorts. "They're <em>unique</em>, and they work for me! The Taskforce wouldn't have permitted me to come to the 21<sup>st</sup> if they deemed I wasn’t ready."</p>
<p>"Maybe they got desperate." Hinata mutters under his breath and Akaashi has to mask his laughter behind a cough.</p>
<p>"I'd call it organised chaos." He chimes in, and Kenma sends a withering glare of betrayal in his direction. "Like a messy room. Nobody else knows where your shit is, but at least you do, right?"</p>
<p>“Sort of,” Lev nods, scratching his neck, “I forget my passwords a lot.”</p>
<p>“Don’t tell me that,” Akaashi cuts him off, “I want to believe that you’re reliable.”</p>
<p>“I am reliable!”</p>
<p>"Anyway," Kenma sighs, "Keiji, you said you wanted to inform us about something?"</p>
<p>Akaashi frowns, scratching at a mosquito bite. "It's about the Anti-Operative Volunteers, unfortunately. I was followed by one of their affiliates this morning."</p>
<p>The mood turns rigid. Lev composes himself and leans closer to listen. For once, Hinata’s bright aura dims into something sullen and resolute.</p>
<p>Kenma tenses. "You didn't get hurt, did you? Were you followed?"</p>
<p>Akaashi shakes his head. "No, I wasn't followed. But I knew the affiliate personally. It's Akaashi's - it's my father. Both of my parents are working with the Anti-Operative Volunteers."</p>
<p>Beside him, Hinata gasps. "Akaashi-san, I'm so sorry to hear that."</p>
<p>"Don't be," he shakes his head, "not like I ever had a good relationship with either of them. But their connection to the Anti-Operatives doesn't spell anything good for us. My parents are famous lawyers, and they have enough power to get things normal people can't."</p>
<p>Outside of Tokyo, the other Time Operatives never received the Protocol 0 emergency with the Anti-Operative Volunteers. Agents like Hinata or Yamaguchi from Sendai got reports briefs about it. But it hits different to actually hear the details of what went on.</p>
<p>"It's okay." Hinata assures them when the bout of silence continues. "We've prepared ourselves for the unexpected. This is supposed to be a fun training camp, but we always need to be alert - no matter what we do or who we're with."</p>
<p>For a moment, Akaashi can spot a little bit of the Strategist in Hinata’s core - but it still isn’t the same. Where Akaashi gives orders like he's imitating the Director, Hinata leads with a gentle reminder of what they're here to do.</p>
<p>All Taskforce-related conversation and musing is put on halt when they approach the sento baths.</p>
<p>Before the baths, there’s a locker room to change out of their clothes. Steam rises to the ceiling, carrying with it the sweet scent of soap and shower gel. Past the steam, Akaashi spots a broad back facing his way. Bokuto catches the commotion and spins around with a smile, and suddenly, Akaashi’s internal system kind of malfunctions because-</p>
<p>
  <em>Oh. Oh wow.</em>
</p>
<p>Akaashi is impartial, he is analytical, and he is observant. He's sharp-sighted, and he's spent enough time with him to <em>know</em> Bokuto is muscular solely from how he carries himself. And how oversized clothes are his go-to option, because he doesn’t like when they cling to his stupid broad shoulders. Objectively, Akaashi is aware Bokuto is – as the others like to put it – a <em>beefcake</em>.</p>
<p>But knowing and seeing are two very, <em>very</em> different things, he’s coming to learn.</p>
<p>Being surrounded by a bunch of young adult men too hormonal and cocky for their own good has exposed Akaashi to more body parts than he ever wanted to see. In Fukurodani's changing rooms, they always challenge each other to find out who's abs are more defined and who's arms are more muscular. Akaashi has caught glimpses of Bokuto's body numerous times, but he never wanted to pay particular attention to any of it.</p>
<p>(He's accustomed to poking ribcages and bony elbows, sunken cheeks and protruding collarbones. It just ingrained itself as a habit not to stare at other people's bodies - so he’d remain ignorant to the way they were dying in front of him.)</p>
<p>But Bokuto isn’t dying – far from it. His body is the definition of fit. Wide shoulders, a broad back, and hard abs carved from a rigorous training regimen like no other. Akaashi gawks.</p>
<p>(He kind of wants to trace Bokuto's body with his fingers, touch and name each muscle as he goes.)</p>
<p>Gorgeous sun-kissed skin, and tanlines on his arms and thighs. And his <em>waist</em>. Bokuto has truly been blessed with the desired hourglass figure. A toned stomach and flaring of wide hips and his-</p>
<p>Akaashi forces himself to look away. Bokuto's shorts hang <em>very low</em> on his hips, the protruding V-line of his hipbones disappearing under the hemline of his shorts.</p>
<p>“Woah, Dorito bod.” Lev gasps, and Akaashi sputters. He completely forgot he wasn't alone. His unit team is right beside him. “Bokuto-san, you’ve got a Dorito body!”</p>
<p>Bokuto blinks in confusion, stroking his defined stomach like it’s the first time he’s noticing it. What a tease. “You think so?”</p>
<p>Kenma wheezes like he can't belief Bokuto is questioning it. “Seriously?”</p>
<p>Hinata bounds towards Bokuto, hounding him with questions about how he got a six-pack and <em>such defined legs oh my god Bokuto-san tell me your training regimen please-</em></p>
<p>Akaashi is above being attracted to people's physical attributes. To be frank, he's never found anyone attractive at all before. People are just... people, to him.</p>
<p>But Bokuto. Bokuto has come in and challenged everything Akaashi has ever stated about himself to be fact.</p>
<p>And he has absolutely no idea he's doing it.</p>
<p>What an ass.</p>
<p>Akaashi yanks his clothes off with more ferocity than necessary, wrapping a towel around his waist before he enters the baths.</p>
<p>Kenma huff a laugh beside him. Akaashi wasn’t aware he was even <em>there</em>. “Shut up, Kenma.”</p>
<p>“I didn’t say anything, Keiji.” He replies with a smirk, dipping one toe in the water to test the temperature.</p>
<p>“Your face says enough.”</p>
<p>“Not my fault yours is so loud. Be grateful it’s so hot here, or else people will ask why you’re so red.”</p>
<p>Akaashi bristles and sinks into the water, flinching when his body is too slow to adjust to the heat. Kenma snorts.</p>
<p><em>This is fine</em>, he tells himself multiple times, chin-deep in the water. <em>Seeing Bokuto's naked body doesn't affect me. I am stronger than this.</em></p>
<p>Like the call of the devil, Bokuto emerges out of the locker room, Hinata and Lev in tow, still asking all sorts of questions that pass through Akaashi’s ears. Because he's too shaken by what he’s seeing right now.</p>
<p>Bokuto has a single towel with him, the one thrown over his shoulder like some sort of useless drape. He <em>only has the one towel</em>.</p>
<p>Akaashi dunks underwater.</p>
<p>--</p>
<p>Akaashi is the first out of the sento baths. He will never admit it but being in such close proximity to (<em>very naked, very wet, very buff</em>) Bokuto was making his head spin. Awful experience. Zero out of ten. Akaashi is still screaming on the inside.</p>
<p>He slinks back to the Fukurodani room and sprawls out on his futon, basking in the chill of the aircon as he reads a book – struggling to get past the first chapter when echoes of conversation rise from the bathhouse. Slippers stomp on polished wood louder and louder as everyone slips to their rooms. Hinata's cackling reverberates through the corridor.</p>
<p>The doors to the Fukurodani room slide open with a bang and Hinata is there, hands on his hips and a smirk stretched wide. “Akaashi-san!”</p>
<p>His yukata is half undone, and he’s still wet and dripping water on the floor. Lev pops out of the corner of the wall, and Kenma hovers nearby. Hinata exclaims. “Come to the Karasuno room… please!”</p>
<p>He added the <em>please</em> like a supplement. Kenma shoves Lev’s arm off the top of his head. “Karasuno is watching movies and invited the others to come. Hinata wanted to ask if you wanted to join too.”</p>
<p>Akaashi blinks. A movie night. He’s never done a movie night with his friends before. Kenma shuffles in to tug him off his futon and Akaashi goes willingly. “Why not? Sounds like it’ll be fun.”</p>
<p>It <em>is</em> fun. Karasuno is happy to have more people join, and nobody is treated like a rival, on or off the court. There's a veil of chaos controlled by their handsome captain, Sawamura Daichi, whereas the vice-captain, Sugawara Koushi, seems to be as much of an instigator as their second and first-years. Their team has an interesting dynamic, one Akaashi is fascinated to watch and observe how Hinata and Yamaguchi fit in.</p>
<p>Hinata completely clashes with what Strategists have been taught to be like. He doesn't fit into the status quo programmed for their categorised role. Hinata is loud and bright and a ray of sunshine who plays more than he schemes and trusts more than he doubts. He is Akaashi's exact opposite - or rather, he is every Strategist’s exact opposite. Whether he’s matching his host’s personality or whether it’s wholly his own, it’s hard to tell.</p>
<p>The way he chortles and jumps and fidgets and argues is too natural to be an act.</p>
<p>Strategists are fine-tuned to remember information they are given. Everything about each Strategist is the exact same. It is the only categorised role with such strict rules implemented. The others are different.</p>
<p>A Warrior can devote themselves to mastering a fighting style they're skilled at, whether it be physical combat or sharpshooting. A Healer can specialise in a particular practice if they desired. A Hacker can crack codes and steal information using the most creative methods they can invent. <em>Hell</em> - even a Mechanic can concentrate on crafting specific equipment if they were especially skilled at it.</p>
<p>A Strategist doesn't get to choose anything. It’s a mere intelligence agent, hardwired to delve into the contents of their data and adapt it for each mission. They do what the future has taught them to do – which is the only reason they're viewed as second in command after the Director. They know what the Taskforce wants them to know, and they do what the Taskforce wants them to do.</p>
<p>Just a well-regulated data processing machine.</p>
<p>When the movie finishes, the guests leave for their rooms. But Hinata surprises Akaashi, stopping him right before he exits into the hallway. He extends his arms for a hug, such an innocent gesture nobody would bat an eye at in a normal situation. But this isn’t a normal scenario, and Hinata isn’t a normal person – and yet, it makes Akaashi question if he actually is a Strategist, when his essence is the exact opposite.</p>
<p>He allows himself be hugged, to feel Hinata squeeze his middle with affection. He may be shorter than most of the people here, but his grip is strong. His power hides beneath a gentle exterior.</p>
<p>Akaashi bids Karasuno goodnight and pads back the Fukurodani room.</p>
<p>Some members are already asleep, and Akaashi crawls into his futon as quietly as possible. The moment he lays on the pillow, his eyes start to droop closed. Bokuto is in his own futon beside him, covered with the blanket so his phone light won't disturb the others as he texts somebody.</p>
<p>“You should sleep soon.” Akaashi whispers in the air between the two of them. The aircon whirrs over them.</p>
<p>"I will, I will," he exhales a <em>pfft</em> sound when another message pops up on his phone, "just texting Kuroo telling him I'll be winning our match tomorrow."</p>
<p>Akaashi smiles. "I see you've made a good friend already."</p>
<p>“He’s my <em>rival</em>, Akaashi.” Bokuto pouts, locking his phone and placing it by his pillow. “I have to beat him and his stupid good blocks.”</p>
<p>“Of course you do.” Akaashi says mid-yawn.</p>
<p>Bokuto likes lying on his front, clutching a pillow. He’s a cuddler which is unsurprising, but endearing.</p>
<p>He can sense Bokuto staring at him, hues of gold dotted with stars scattered across a universe. “Go to sleep now, Bokuto-san.”</p>
<p>“I am.” He rumbles, clearly exhausted. The silence laps on long enough for Akaashi to assume Bokuto fell asleep, but then he mumbles. “I’m glad to see you happy, Akaashi.”</p>
<p>Akaashi’s heart skips a beat. “I’m…” to say he’s always happy would be the fattest lie ever told in the 21<sup>st</sup> “… I’m having fun here.”</p>
<p>And it’s true. He can talk to Kenma, he can enjoy spending time with his friends, he can be by Bokuto’s side and surround himself with the people who matter to him the most like it’s his last night on earth.</p>
<p>(A night that might be coming soon.)</p>
<p>“That’s good.” Bokuto whispers, like he’s caught in a trance between wakefulness and dreams. “Akaashi should make lots of nice friends – people who you feel comfortable around to be yourself. Like that Kenma guy. You two seemed to click real fast. Just promise you won’t forget me, okay? I’m the original best friend.”</p>
<p>“Don’t be silly.” Akaashi smiles into his pillow so he won’t have to see the way Bokuto is looking at him. Tired and fond and golden. His softness tricks Akaashi with its deliberate motive of shooting an arrow straight through his ribs – an arrow Akaashi knew would be coming.</p>
<p>Bokuto looks at Akaashi like he could never tire of him, like Akaashi is the most wonderful person he’s ever had the privilege to be with, to call his <em>friend</em>.</p>
<p>(Boktuo looks at Akaashi like he wants to kiss him to sleep, draw circles against any strip of bare skin he’s allowed to touch, and press closer to murmur <em>I love you’</em>s against his lips, his jaw, his neck.)</p>
<p>“Go to sleep, Bokuto-san.” Akaashi stuffs his face into the pillow.</p>
<p>“Okay,” Comes the mumbled reply. “Sleep well, ‘kaashi.”</p>
<p>It shouldn’t, but sleep comes to him easily tonight.</p>
<p>--</p>
<p>Like clockwork, Akaashi wakes up before the sun and prepares for the unit meeting. He's dressed in his jersey, face washed and teeth brushed, withing minutes before he’s waiting for the others to join him. An early morning chills makes the air dewy and crisp, and Akaashi relishes in it before the heat arrives.</p>
<p>Kenma and Lev join him outside of the boarding house, with Hinata and Yamaguchi following, so they can proceed towards the rendezvous point together.</p>
<p>“The Warriors are waiting by the old garden centre." Kenma reads the coded message on his phone. "It's five minutes out."</p>
<p>They make a strange group, put-together students from different universities and different jerseys. They stick out in the empty streets, where only cars pass them on the occasion. Lev assures them he disabled all the cameras in the area for the duration of their meeting.</p>
<p>Warriors are easy to spot and Akaashi immediately picks up on them based their rigid stance, legs shoulder-width apart and arms crossed. Two pairs of eyes scan them up and down, and Akaashi resists the urge to avoid their gaze. The other Sendai agents don't seem intimidated by their defensive aura, so Akaashi trusts they won't be too hostile. Or at least, they’ll be cooperative.</p>
<p>Hinata greets them cheerfully like they're old friends, and Yamaguchi bows politely.</p>
<p>“I’m Time Operative 4024.” The first Warrior greets them without a falter in his stoic expression. “Iwaizumi Hajime.”</p>
<p>“I go by Tendou Satori,” the other Warrior interjects, throwing a peace sign, “Time Operative 3991.”</p>
<p>The Tokyo agents introduce themselves and move on to discuss the mission. The alleyway by the garden centre is devoid of people, Akaashi doubts anybody passes here even in the daytime. Lev controls the cameras around them, tapping on his phone to make sure they play repeat footage of empty streets.</p>
<p>"So, let's start." Akaashi pulls out his phone. "Our mission involves stopping a freight plane from taking off at Tokyo International Airport. The plane is going to be delivering dozens of containers of an illegal substance. It's a recently discovered liquid substance called Mortos-”</p>
<p>“Reassuring name.” Tendou comments.</p>
<p>“-and it’s highly volatile when it comes into contact with heat.” Akaashi goes on. “The containers they're in are deteriorating –apparently sensors can't pick up on how metal gets eroded by it. The plane is predicted to explode before take-off and wipe out the entire capital city."</p>
<p>They’re very familiar with that piece of history.</p>
<p>"It’s all-or-nothing. If we fuck up, we're not making it out alive." Kenma says bluntly. "Engineers tried hundreds of simulations to figure out how to fully disable it, but there's no solution. The only thing we can do is lower the range of the explosion to the freight plane."</p>
<p>"It'll be up to the Hackers to disable it on time." Hinata pipes up. "But you're gonna have to do it manually from inside."</p>
<p>"And the Strategists will remain on standby with our Healer." Akaashi points to himself and Hinata. "We'll talk you through the process from the outside."</p>
<p>“So it’ll be up to the Warriors to protect you while you’re there," Iwaizumi concludes, "we'll make sure you all get the hell out of there”</p>
<p>Kenma and Akaashi exchange a glance.</p>
<p>"It's not the only thing you'll be doing, unfortunately." Akaashi sighs, rubbing the back of his neck.</p>
<p>"Something to do with the Anti-Operative Volunteers, I assume?" Tendou inquires with a tilt of his head.</p>
<p>Kenma discloses what happened with the Anti-Operatives, and speculates they'll most certainly get ambushed during their mission. "We’ll have to keep surveillance for the Anti-Operatives, not just the Warriors."</p>
<p>"They never cease to disappoint." Tendou tuts. "Only ever thinking of themselves. Do they fail to visualise a world that won't suffer the same fate as us?"</p>
<p>Metal walls and protruding bones are revived in Akaashi's memory. Torrid heatwaves, and how the air alone could burn skin. Children who only ever saw their parents through identification documents, with soulless expressions and sunken cheeks. Parents, who were together for the sole purpose of reproducing offspring.</p>
<p>Akaashi used to sneak away to read; stories about worlds where people lived outside. Stories where the mundane was described to be as beautiful as the divine. He could never fathom how the sun was pleasant on someone's skin, or how the chill of winter felt. Flowers didn't bloom in any Faction, and nobody saw the stars past the metal ceiling and ash-cloudy sky. After all, they believe there are no stars in the future.</p>
<p>"Maybe they find it impossible to fathom." Akaashi mulls, half-lost in the future’s past. "They don't think it's fair. <em>Why do they deserve a better life while I have to suffer?</em> At least, that's how I interpret their logic."</p>
<p>It's why some agents get their consciousness overridden when they get a chance to live in the not-yet-dead world. Akaashi turns towards the sky, cloudless and light blue. Time Operatives arrive to the past, thrust into a world of what could have been. They see this world, slowly dying, and think <em>let me die with it</em>.</p>
<p>
  <em>If it takes so much to save it, then let me experience the last of what it has to give.</em>
</p>
<p>A Time Operative is lying if they say they don't feel that urge to live. Like double agents who forget they're undercover. Time Operatives have a chance to escape their inevitable doom and they get greedy. And greed is what puts their lives on the line when they disobey orders.</p>
<p>Such is the principle of special agents, and the only way to guarantee an optimum future for the rest of humanity.</p>
<p>Getting back on track, they finish discussing the details of their mission. Tendou and Iwaizumi will have to do the majority of their preparations. It would be suspicious if the other agents disappeared from training camp, sneaking around with weapons and strangers.</p>
<p>Whatever teamwork the Sendai Time Operatives did before helps them figure out how to work around their liabilities with ease. They finish the setups and make their way back towards the boarding house.</p>
<p>The later it gets in the morning, the higher the temperature rises. Akaashi has to take off his jacket before they've even reached the halfway point.</p>
<p>"For every heartless, greedy person in this timeline, there is one just as kind to oppose them." Tendou says all of a sudden, bumping an elbow to Akaashi's side. "A wicked world stands in our way, but there are so many good people here too - people who want to change it.”</p>
<p>Tendou is cheery and sardonic in a way that doesn’t intend to be rude. Yet something pensive swirls in the depths of burgundy red eyes. A deep wisdom and perceptive intuition. He was clearly able to tell Akaashi was anxious about the Anti-Operative Volunteers – and about the Taskforce. “Sometimes we tend to forget that. Maybe because we don't notice it, we're exposed to so much corruption we forget about it. Not to say good people aren’t greedy too - it’s how humans work - but they’re <em>different</em>. They think about more than just themselves.”</p>
<p>Tendou’s a strange one, appearing harmless and slow with his gangly body, but the way he moves makes Akaashi nervous. Tendou reads his enemy, follows them with precision reminiscent of a snake right before it pounces on its prey. Tendou is a Warrior and he isn’t expected to calculate and understand the intricacies of delicate operations. But in that moment, it feels like Tendou can read everything in Akaashi’s mind like a Strategist can read between the lines on a mission.</p>
<p>Akaashi doesn’t register arriving to the boarding house, reeling from what Tendou said.</p>
<p>He thinks of the present, full of corruption and greed, and the future that’s just the same, and wonders. What do those people look like? The one's who think about more than just the greed poisoning their conscience? The ones who love and care and protect unconditionally?</p>
<p>The gym has filled up when the agents arrive. Bokuto bounds over to him, beaming like he couldn't be happier to see him this morning. Kuroo isn't far behind, gaze fixed on Kenma.</p>
<p>Kuroo slip an energy bar in Kenma's pocket because Kuroo knows he doesn't like eating a big breakfast. Akaashi sees Kenma smile, something meant specifically for Kuroo, and sees how easily it comes to him. He sees two people and realises that for them, he can forget the greed of the world.</p>
<p>A poke at his back redirects Akaashi's attention to Bokuto, who looks at Akaashi like he hung the stars in the galaxy. Akaashi sees a person who doesn't know the definition of greed.</p>
<p>Bokuto, who loves everyone and everything because he doesn’t know how to do it any other way. He loves to hug the first years and high-five the third years, and he swipes Akaashi off his feet when they win. It’s a given for Bokuto to prepare food the night before training camp because he knows a lot of his teammates don’t eat breakfast. Going to the library or the arcade or whatever place of the world he wants to show Akaashi has become something he looks forward.</p>
<p>Akaashi tried so hard to view Bokuto as an obstacle, then as a necessary decoy to keep his cover, then as someone he wanted to be friends with. And now Akaashi wonders at what point through that process did he miss the moment where he started to care.</p>
<p>Akaashi sees Bokuto and thinks the world is worth saving just for him.</p>
<p>--</p>
<p>The exhaustion from training camp is different to the kind he feels on missions. After he finishes a job, Akaashi is fried like an overheated computer. Fatigue sinks into his bones until he can't move, and all he wants to do is lay in bed for an entire week so he can forget every grim detail and job in store for him soon.</p>
<p>But when it comes to volleyball, he feels tired in a different way. The muscles in his arms ache from so many sets, the strain on his calves and his thighs leaves them quivering. But at the end of the day, when the teams do their final stretches, Akaashi wants to go back and play more.</p>
<p>It’s like he's able to process everything at a high level, performing every step without conscious control. He's in the zone, and nothing else is relevant within his surroundings. He can sense his teammates and the opponent on the other side of the net. Their long arms ready for a block, their powerful legs jump high into the air.</p>
<p>Akaashi uses his tactics not as weapons, but something better. Something <em>normal</em>.</p>
<p>After dinner, he practices with Bokuto again, keeping up with his pace.</p>
<p>He tosses the ball, watches Bokuto jump into the air. As if in slow-motion, he watches the way Bokuto's back arches, and his arm swings out. The ball flies over the net, a spike so powerful, no one could block it even if they tried. It's quick and overwhelming and perfect.</p>
<p>Bokuto inspects his palm, red and calloused from so many spikes, and he smiles.</p>
<p>Akaashi doesn’t pick up another ball.</p>
<p>“Hey, Akaashi,” Bokuto says his name, “I’ve been thinking. I was wrong to call your tosses different.”</p>
<p>Akaashi’s brain turns to mush. "Huh? What do you mean, Bokuto-san?"</p>
<p>"I mean... they <em>are</em> different, but," Bokuto continues like he didn't cause Akaashi's stomach to flip into somersaults, “but it’s not a <em>bad </em>different, or at least… now, I think I like them. A lot. They're different than how they used to be, but the way you toss to the others on the team depends on their abilities too. So..."</p>
<p>Like ice-cream forgotten in the sun, the frost wrapped around a heart that isn't his own begins to melt.</p>
<p>“They really feel like <em>your</em> tosses now. You’re worked so hard to adjust them to everyone’s plays and abilities, and it’s so impressive! Now when you toss to me, it feels like every single one is meant just for me!”</p>
<p>Akaashi Keiji had a unique way of tossing to Bokuto. A strong and stable set leading into a powerful spike that left their opponent staring at dust left on the court. Akaashi Keiji's tosses had only been meant for Bokuto, because Akaashi Keiji was in love with him.</p>
<p><em>Oh</em>, it occurs to him, <em>so that’s what this is</em>.</p>
<p>--</p>
<p>Extra practice goes on until nine in the evening when Coach reprimands them for staying so late. So they go back to the boarding house, splitting ways because Bokuto wanted to grab a snack before the restaurant closed.</p>
<p>Summer nights are always warm, but tonight, a strange chill bites his neck. He wishes he was smart enough to bring a jacket even if the walk back is less than three minutes.</p>
<p>He wishes he was smart enough to figure he's never truly safe, no matter where he is.</p>
<p>He should have known.</p>
<p>Akaashi turns into the back entrance of the boarding house. He doesn't catch the glint of silver until a knife is pressed underneath his jugular.</p>
<p>“It's a lovely night, isn't it?" The attacker enters Akaashi's line of vision, and a shot of horror splinters his spine. Tawny blonde hair and drooping black eyes. A flash of knife-sharp teeth that make Akaashi want to <em>run</em>. "I’d have loved to meet the pretty little Hacker instead, but I guess I can't be too picky."</p>
<p>"<em>Ikehara</em>." Akaashi's jaw tightens, fists clenched at his sides. "Don't even dream of getting anywhere <em>near</em> him, you sick freak.”</p>
<p>The knife scrapes against his throat, and Akaashi tenses. “Possessive, aren’t you? Don’t fret, I won’t do anything to him – as long as he cooperates.”</p>
<p>Violent rage crashes through him. The sharp instinct springing forth from the deepest part of his gut screams at him to attack, to hit, to run, to kill, to protect. It's terrifying how quickly he needs to tamper down those urges lest he actually act on them. But if it comes to Kenma - if it comes to protecting his friends - Akaashi is not going to hesitate.</p>
<p>He has no guns hidden in his belt. He has no knives tucked away. He was foolish to believe he didn't need them here. He was foolish to expect the Anti-Operative Volunteers would wait until the mission to attack.</p>
<p>But Akaashi doesn't need guns or knives to fight. As long as he has his brain, as long as he can formulate strategies, then Akaashi can fight.</p>
<p>His elbow strikes Ikehara's gut before either of them can even blink. The knife nicks at his jaw when the force of it pushes him away.</p>
<p>Ikehara coughs through a sinister guffaw. "Violence is so unbecoming of you, Strategist. I don't plan on killing you... not yet, anyway."</p>
<p>Akaashi would argue otherwise, with how Ikehara lunges and points the knife straight at his throat. He dodges, dropping to kick Ikehara's feet out from under him. But Ikehara evades with far more grace than a regular 21<sup>st</sup> century citizen should possess.</p>
<p>He swings the knife like he knows the proper technique, he holds it like he's been born to do so all his life. Ikehara aims for Akaashi's vitals like he knows their precise location.</p>
<p>This man is not Ikehara Jirou. Not anymore.</p>
<p>Akaashi is fighting another Time Operative.</p>
<p>He tries to create some distance between them. But Ikehara is quicker, grabbing Akaashi's forearm and yanking hard enough to nearly dislocate his shoulder. Akaashi stumbles to the ground and narrowly moves out the way before the knife lodges into the dirt where his throat had been. He flips them over, planting a foot on Ikehara's wrist and immobilising him until the knife falls out of his limp hand.</p>
<p>From somewhere in his belt, Ikehara procures another weapon, and Akaashi freezes when a gun points right in the centre of his forehead.</p>
<p>"I'm not supposed to kill you, but I will if you keep this shit up." Ikehara grunts, panting from exertion.</p>
<p>“You sure you want to do that here? You’ll cause a lot of noise.” Akaashi challenges. Beads of sweat trickle down his neck.</p>
<p>"Doesn't matter, not like rules stopped me before."</p>
<p>“What do you want.” Akaashi demands.</p>
<p>“First of all, I’d like your Hacker’s phone number.” Ikehara wags his eyebrows, not taking this seriously whatsoever. “I can totally see what Ikehara saw in him, smart, analytical, and cute – just my type.”</p>
<p>Ikehara groans when the foot on his wrist presses down <em>hard</em>. “Talk about him like that again and I will chop off your dick.”</p>
<p>"Don't be getting so jealous, sweetheart." He sneers. "Strategists are so possessive. We get a taste of what the real world's like and we cling to it until our consciousness gets erased."</p>
<p>Akaashi pauses. “<em>You’re</em> a Strategist?”</p>
<p>“It’s always a pleasure to meet one of our own.” Ikehara coos. “A shame about the circumstances though, I wish you’d be on our side of this fight.”</p>
<p>“You… you want <em>me</em> to join you?” Akaashi almost bursts out laughing at the preposterous suggestion.</p>
<p>"If it helps you transition better, you can bring the pretty Hacker too." He adds on, but Akaashi's mind is far away all of a sudden, failing to determine the purpose of such a goal. “Come join the Anti-Operative Volunteers, Time Operative.”</p>
<p>“And if I say no?” He cocks a brow, tasting dirt and sand with every word. “If I end your time in the 21<sup>st</sup> right here, what will you do?”</p>
<p>Ikehara sighs. “I’m forbidden from killing you since you’re kinda important for our goal - but if it comes down to it, and my life is the one on the line, I will. Another Strategist will come around.”</p>
<p>So many questions swirl in his head, clambering over each other to reach the tip of his tongue first, but Akaashi is frozen with fear.</p>
<p>Ikehara moves to pull the trigger.</p>
<p>“Akaashi?”</p>
<p>Horrified doesn’t even begin to describe the mixture of terror and panic that overcomes him.</p>
<p>Bokuto stands at the path to the back entrance of the boarding house. His expression is one of open shock - or terror, or bewilderment, or all of the above. His bottom lip trembles, like he wants to speak, but no words come out. The sight in front of him is impossible to compute for Bokuto’s mental acuity, incapable of acting in this implausible scenario.</p>
<p>Ikehara grins like a conqueror in the moment of victory.  </p>
<p>Every muscle in Akaashi’s body stays tight, frozen in place.</p>
<p>“W-what’s going on?” Bokuto lets out a shaky exhale.</p>
<p>“Bokuto-san, you need to get away from here.” Akaashi pleads.</p>
<p>"A friend of yours?" Ikehara cuts in, voice boisterous and loud. He isn't afraid to reveal the truth. He <em>wants </em>to reveal it. “Don’t worry, your pal and I were just having a little disagreement. Y’know, time traveller business.”</p>
<p>Akaashi can do nothing but watch as Bokuto’s world turns upside-down. “Huh? T-time traveller?”</p>
<p>“Oh, you haven't <em>told</em> him?” Ikehara mocks. “Haven't you told him you’re a <em>murderer</em>? That <em>you</em> killed Akaashi Keiji?”</p>
<p>“Huh?” Bokuto blinks like he's hoping to wake up from a hellish nightmare.</p>
<p>Akaashi fights the gun out of Ikehara's grasp and points it back at him. But this Strategist is smart like the rest, and he slips away.</p>
<p>“Now, now, don’t go showing off to your friend,” Ikehara taunts, “we’re supposed to be humble about them.”</p>
<p>Akaashi is panting, not from exertion, but panic.</p>
<p>“Although, if we’re going to flaunt, how about we make it a real show?” Ikehara picks up the silver knife and charges forward.</p>
<p>Akaashi poises to disarm him, but instead of aiming for Akaashi’s vitals, Ikehara shirks past him. Akaashi whirls around and cold rage flash-freezes him to his core.</p>
<p>Ikehara is going for Bokuto.</p>
<p>The corners in Akaashi's vision blur until he sees nothing but <em>red</em>.</p>
<p>Stupefied and shocked, Bokuto's legs refuse to move. He stands at the gateway between the street and the boarding house as if he's going to take the knife right to his chest. Akaashi runs, jumping on Ikehara so they both go toppling on the dusty pavement.</p>
<p>Ikehara is not allowed to touch a single hair on Bokuto's head.</p>
<p>“Do not fucking touch him.” The threat came from the most visceral part of his soul, a greedy abyss that refuses to let someone so important get taken away. “I will kill you if you go near him.”</p>
<p>Ikehara only laughs. The jarring shrill of his hysterics is enough for Bokuto to come to his senses, backing away. Ikehara continues to cackle even as they scrabble on the ground. "What, aren't you supposed to be heroic? Where's that <em>saving the world</em> complex of yours? What're you doing getting attached to your host's friends? You should know better than that - you're not Akaashi Keiji."</p>
<p>"And you're not Ikehara Jirou either!" He rasps through dust scratching in his throat, sharp like swallowing glass. Something burns behind his eyes, and Akaashi doesn't register it to be tears until Ikehara's face begins to blur. "I don't care, I don't care about any of that - you don't get to hurt him, you don't get to hurt anyone!"</p>
<p>"St-stop this..." Bokuto begs weakly from the sidelines. Tears leave streaks down to his chin. "Please stop."</p>
<p>Ikehara lands a punch on Akaashi's jaw and he topples over. A boot drives into his abdomen. He wheezes and tries to curl into himself.</p>
<p>“You can’t run away now, Strategist!” Ikehara exclaims, kicking him again. “Can't lie your way out of this one! How about we end it all - you come with me and I promise to leave your precious friend alone.”</p>
<p>And Akaashi – Akaashi nearly says <em>yes</em>. Mentally, he doesn't hesitate to agree - because if it's Bokuto, if it's him then-</p>
<p>Akaashi can barely breathe, let alone speak. He tries to nod, but only bumps his head on the ground. As he tries to stand, the thump of footsteps suddenly reaches his ears.</p>
<p>Kenma darts out of the boarding house, a silenced pistol poised to shoot Ikehara's leg. If possible, Bokuto looks even more bewildered.</p>
<p>"Don't move." Kenma's finger is on the trigger. Behind him, Hinata, Yamaguchi, and Lev appear. “Step away from him.”</p>
<p>Ikehara complies with a grunt, raising his hands in the air and dropping his knife.</p>
<p>“Nice to see you face-to-face like this, kitten.” Ikehara smirks. Kenma’s expression hardens.</p>
<p>Yamaguchi and Hinata move in front of Bokuto to protect him from the fight. Lev remains by Kenma's side with another gun.</p>
<p>“You won’t kill me, Hacker.” Ikehara challenges, but immediately backpedals when Kenma racks the slide. “Or maybe you will. But I wouldn’t do that if I were you. You’ll just get yourself killed too.”</p>
<p>“It’ll be worth it if it got you to stop opening your damn mouth.”</p>
<p>“Don’t be like that, I’ll be waiting for you to join me in hell.” Ikehara leers. “Besides, didn't you got the order? If you kill me, you’ll die too.”</p>
<p>He pulls out his phone and Akaashi internally curses. On the screen, a coded message reads: if an Anti-Operative Volunteer is killed, the Time Operative’s consciousness will be overridden.</p>
<p>They’ve tampered with the Director's orders.</p>
<p>It's over. Their luck has officially run out.</p>
<p>Kenma hesitates, but then, lowers his gun.</p>
<p>“Thank you, kitten.” Ikehara says. “Now then, I want to discuss-”</p>
<p>The world learns not to mess with Akaashi Keiji.</p>
<p>In a moment of blind rage, he picks up the knife where Ikehara dropped it and stabs him. He hears his name called, muffled by the rush of adrenaline in his ears. Warm blood soaks his ice-cold hands as they dig into Ikehara right where the diaphragm is located. He wheezes in shock, coughing blood onto Akaashi's face.</p>
<p>It would be so easy to break his neck. He wants to, so badly. But he resists.</p>
<p>“A stupid move.” Akaashi growls. “Should’ve made it so no one can touch you. Because this won’t stop me from bringing you as close to death as I possibly can.”</p>
<p>Ikehara scowls. “As expected from the smartest Strategist in our Faction. You never disappoint.”</p>
<p>“I'd advise you to stay where you are.” Akaashi removes the knife non-too-gently, basking in the pained shout Ikehara lets out. “If you want to be healed, that is.”</p>
<p>“I’d rather not stick around.” Blood trickles down his jaw. “I’m a bit more dedicated to my cause than you are to yours.”</p>
<p>The clink of metal has Akaashi jumping out of the way of a shot to the leg. A masked figure approaches, and the Time Operatives scramble for cover. Hinata drags Bokuto with him.</p>
<p>But the sniper doesn't bother to try again, hauling Ikehara off the ground. A voice, distorted by the mask, speaks. “Our purpose is not to kill you, time travellers. We merely ask you to join our cause and end this hopeless cycle.”</p>
<p>“What – by threatening to torture us if we don’t!?” Yamaguchi blurts out.</p>
<p>“If you are with the Taskforce, then you stand in our way.” They reply. “And if you stand in our way, then we will get rid of you.”</p>
<p>The masked figure carries Ikehara away, and he looks back at them, baring his blood-stained teeth. "I'll see you in hell soon, Time Operatives."</p>
<p>The Anti-Operative Volunteers disappear down the street. Nobody dares follow them. They will only fall into their trap. So the agents stay and force themselves pick up the damage left behind.</p>
<p>Silence swells around them, building up and up and up until it topples like a house of cards.</p>
<p>"Akaashi..." His voice is small and twisted with panic and disbelief. Akaashi doesn't look at him - he can't. Not when someone else's blood is drying on his skin and purple bruises stain his body. “<em>Akaashi</em>!”</p>
<p>“Bokuto-san, please calm down.” Hinata is pleading, but there’s some scuffling, and then, Bokuto is twisting him around so they face each other.</p>
<p>The expression on Bokuto’s face has Akaashi crumbling from the inside. There's so much pain and horror – and betrayal, because he doesn't know who the person standing in front of him is anymore.</p>
<p>"Akaashi." He calls his name again - his host's name. Bokuto isn't talking to him right now. He's talking to Akaashi Keiji. “What is this? What's going on?”</p>
<p>“Bokuto-san, I…” No lie can get them out of this situation. Akaashi has reached his infinite limit.</p>
<p>“This… this is all so crazy!” Bokuto exclaims, running a hand through his hair. “All this talk about time travellers and, and consciousness shit? Those guys were just some crazy people attacking you, right?”</p>
<p>He opens his mouth, but no words come to him. What is there to say?</p>
<p>“H-hey why aren’t you saying anything?” Bokuto asks, begging for an answer, for Akaashi to agree that everything is crazy nonsense – that this is just a nightmare to wake up from. “This… none of this is true, right?”</p>
<p>He doesn’t have it in him to lie anymore.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry, Bokuto-san.”</p>
<p>Bokuto’s sun-freckled skin turns pale. He shakes his head. “No. No, don’t say that. This isn’t funny anymore, Akaashi. This is a really, really sick joke…”</p>
<p>“I’m sorry.” Is all he can say. "You were never supposed to find out."</p>
<p>Bokuto looks right at him, teary with incredulity and betrayal. “Akaashi… you’re still alive… how can you be dead when you’re right in front of me!?”</p>
<p>How could Akaashi be dead when his skin is so warm beneath Bokuto’s palms?</p>
<p>“I’m sorry, Bokuto-san.” <em>You shouldn't know this.</em></p>
<p>“You can’t be dead.” He shakes his head resolutely. “You’re… you’re right here, you’ve always been by my side, all this time, you-you’ve…”</p>
<p>Something clicks behind Bokuto’s expression. He has always been insanely good at putting the puzzle pieces together - especially if it comes to Akaashi Keiji.</p>
<p>“You… your tosses…” Bokuto exhales and the warmth seeps out from between them when he lets him go. "And then you... disappearing so much and the, those weird bruises you got... I just thought it was something minor from your labs but... it wasn't."</p>
<p>It all sounds like a movie plot, a terrible, horrible story that shouldn’t be happening in real life. But it is real, because so many things have clicked into place inside his head now.</p>
<p>Akaashi’s hands are stained with blood.</p>
<p>Bokuto can't decide whether to run away or reach out to him. “You’re lying. <em>You’re lying!</em> No, I don’t believe you – Akaashi isn’t dead - please, tell me this is all a lie!”</p>
<p>All of it is starting to make sense to him, but Bokuto can’t quite grasp that yet. He <em>refuses</em> to accept it.</p>
<p>The pained look on Akaashi’s face gives him that final answer.</p>
<p>“Akaashi, I am <em>begging </em>you.” Bokuto sobs. "This can't be true - it can't! It doesn't make sense, you're right here right in front of me and - I can't lose you when you're with me now! Akaashi there’s so much I have to tell you, so much we haven't done together. <em>You can't just take him away from me!"</em></p>
<p>Bokuto Koutarou, this strong pillar of hope, the brightest star in his universe, has broken. "You don't understand, I - I <em>love</em> him, so please - please, don’t steal him away from me!"</p>
<p>Akaashi breaks with him.</p>
<p>Yamaguchi comes into view, his presence gone undetected, and uncaps a syringe with trembling fingers. Nobody stops him when he stabs the needle into Bokuto’s neck. A whimper escapes past his lips but he can’t push Yamaguchi away, paralysed by the drug entering his system.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry, Bokuto-san.” Yamaguchi murmurs into his ear, removing the needle once the drug has entered his system. “But you don’t have to remember any of this anymore. It’ll be like the day never happened.”</p>
<p>The memory-wiping drug was invented by Mechanics in order to help Time Operatives if their identities got exposed. It's a last-resort type of effort, but it guarantees the victim won't remember anything that transpired in the last twenty-four hours. All of it will be completely forgotten.</p>
<p>It isn't a drug to be used often. Mechanics discourage agents from relying on it in precarious situations. But for something like this, where only one person is present, they can utilise the memory-wiping drug, and ensure the victim is kept safe. The Director might decide to override their consciousness if the victim is too dangerous to be kept alive with knowledge of time traveller’s existence.</p>
<p>Bokuto quickly blacks out and Akaashi doesn't hesitate to catch him, knees bruising on pavement as they take most of the fall. But he doesn't care. As long as Bokuto is safe in his arms. His pulse is abnormally slow, a result of the anaesthesia in the drug.</p>
<p>Akaashi is deaf to what is happening around him. He can't hear Kenma ordering Hinata to cover the evidence of blood on the pavement, and Lev to check CCTV footage. He can only cradle Bokuto close, and wonder if he can hear the way his heart shatters into a million pieces.</p>
<p>A streak of blood paints Bokuto’s cheekbone when he caresses it, and Akaashi scowls in disgust. He tries to wipe it away with his sleeve, but only smears it further. He doesn’t hear himself chanting the same words over and over again into Bokuto’s hair. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, you were never supposed to find out, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I never meant to take him away from you…”</p>
<p>Akaashi always imagined the moment he met his demise would be because he did something stupid or self-sacrificing. Then, when the Anti-Operative Volunteers showed up, he feared they’d kill him and destroy the Taskforce.</p>
<p>How, somewhere under layers of ice slowly melting around his heart, he knew the truth long ago.</p>
<p>Akaashi is greedy. And he is willing to change the world to let a single person live.</p>
<p>It isn’t the Anti-Operatives or a mission-gone-wrong that will get him killed. It’s the person he’s holding in his arms right now, the one he is willing to give up his consciousness for.</p>
<p>Akaashi Keiji knows, with his entire being, Bokuto will be the reason why he dies.</p>
<p>--</p>
<p>So much blood swirls in the sink, it’s revolting. It's never-ending no matter even if he scrubs his hands raw. The sink remains red and the smell of copper seeps into his lungs. Somebody else's blood is etched into his skin - but the blood running his veins is not his own either.</p>
<p>He can't bring himself to look in the mirror because he's only going to see a dead boy's face.</p>
<p>The others carried Bokuto back to the Fukurodani room. One side-effect of the memory-wiping drug is that it will take a good couple of hours for him to wake up. The other is that he'll be dealing with a killer headache once he does.</p>
<p>He wishes Yamaguchi would’ve injected it into him too.</p>
<p>The bathroom doors squeak open and Kenma enters, locking it behind him. He doesn't speak, and Akaashi stays quiet. There is nothing to say.</p>
<p>He tries to scrape the blood out from under his nails. His knuckles are raw pink from how hot the water has become. He wants it to hurt.</p>
<p>Kenma fiddles with the tap, but Akaashi still doesn't move when droplets leak on his knuckles until Kenma is pulling him away from the sink. He doesn't care for the watery blood still staining him, nor how hot his hands are to the touch. He just squeezes Akaashi in his hold without saying a word</p>
<p>He dries Akaashi's hands with a towel, gently cleaning his palms and wrists. He gives Akaashi a spare change of clothes, folding the dirtied jersey like he plans to put it back in his bag and not toss it away as soon as possible.</p>
<p>“He’ll be okay, Keiji.” Kenma mumbles, wetting another towel to pat off the blood Akaashi's jaw. “He wasn’t injured, and he’ll only have a headache to deal with. It’ll be like the day never happened for him.”</p>
<p>Akaashi is aware (<em>because if Bokuto got hurt, he would have killed Ikehara without an ounce of hesitation</em>), and he's relieved Bokuto won't remember such a traumatic incident. But Akaashi will. He is never going to forget how horrified Bokuto was when he discovered the real Akaashi Keiji is dead.</p>
<p>And it's a normal way to react when you discover something so devastating. Of course it is. He might’ve expected something worse, something raw and angry. But this is Bokuto Koutarou. The one who doesn't have a single angry-bone in his body. The one who is shocked to tears and denial as he begs the stranger in his friend's body to bring Akaashi Keiji back.</p>
<p>And when his pleas go unanswered and reality sets in, the pieces of his unsullied resolve are polluted by reality. Akaashi Keiji is dead, and he is never coming back.</p>
<p>This is his harsh reminder; he is not Bokuto's Akaashi Keiji, and he will never be Bokuto's Akaashi Keiji. He is a Time Operative, and nothing else.</p>
<p>Yet it still hurts. Something is curling and coiling around his soul so tight it's impossible to breathe. Boiling water on his skin is nothing compared to the searing pain in his sternum.</p>
<p>(<em>Why does the thought of Bokuto loving Akaashi Keiji make his heart ache so badly? Why does knowing they loved each other leave him laden with sorrow?</em>)</p>
<p>Kenma tugs Akaashi - battered mind and body and all - out of the bathroom. Somehow, it feels like the everything should have stopped, and the world should full of fire and chaos and misery. But the world is not dead yet.</p>
<p>Most of the players retired to their rooms for the night, their murmurs quiet in the halls. Kenma walks him to the Fukurodani rooms, and they stand at the door like the devil waits for them on the other side.</p>
<p>Akaashi doesn't want to go in there.</p>
<p>"There's a spare futon in the Nekoma room." Kenma whispers, squeezing his wrist.</p>
<p>"How very generous of you, Kenma." Akaashi whispers back, sounding kind of winded. Like he wanted to laugh, but couldn't bring himself to do it. "But I’ll be fine.”</p>
<p>He caused this mess and now he has to live with it.</p>
<p>Kenma gives a noncommittal hum. "Okay. The offer still stands though. Not just here. Whenever you need it. You can come to me, alright?"</p>
<p>He forces himself not to hunch over and tremble. Something stings in his eyes. Must be the dust. Probably didn't wash it all out. "Thank you, Kenma."</p>
<p>"I love you, Keiji." The confession is said with no hesitation. It's so sudden Akaashi barely manages to keep himself from falling apart. "It’s just... after everything... I needed you to know that."</p>
<p>(Because Kenma doesn't want to regret not saying it. He doesn’t want to end up in Bokuto’s place, begging and pleading a strange Time Operative to bring <em>his</em> Keiji back to him, after he was dumb enough to get his consciousness overridden.)</p>
<p>Akaashi wonders if the word <em>love</em> has ever been shared between two agents and gotten away with. It makes his voice tremble to say it. "I... I love you too, Kenma."</p>
<p>They remain where they are, hand in hand, and their minds intact. He wishes he could feel unstoppable because of it.</p>
<p>Kenma returns to the Nekoma dorms and Akaashi faces his ghosts. He tiptoes over his sleeping teammates, settling into his futon, and turns away from Bokuto. He’s sleeping soundly, so still it scares him – even if he knows Bokuto will be okay.</p>
<p>So Akaashi encloses himself under the blanket, curling his knees into his chest and covering his ears as he finally admits the thing that's been eating away at him since the moment he arrived in the 21<sup>st</sup>.</p>
<p>
  <em>I’m scared, I’m scared. I’m so, so scared.</em>
</p>
<p>--</p>
<p>When Akaashi wakes up, there is no second-long delay before he remembers what happened. An immense ache of nothing and everything rises from the bottom of his core. The same one he feels after a particularly nasty job, when apathy and information overload his senses until he can barely move.</p>
<p>This time, it's so much worse.</p>
<p>Morning is quiet. The aircon whirrs. If the windows were open, maybe he could hear cicadas waking up. Akaashi is so exhausted, lifting even a finger seems an impossible feat.</p>
<p>Beside him, Bokuto is asleep with a distorted expression on his face. The side-effects of the drug must have kicked in. Bokuto probably won't be able to get up today, let alone participate in the training camp.</p>
<p>Akaashi takes a few more minutes to rest before heaving himself up, only to collapse when pain slashes through him. The kicks he received to the stomach went untreated yesterday, plus the bruise blooming on his face. He'll cover it up before practice today - maybe Yamaguchi has something to help.</p>
<p>He tries again, more careful this time round. A sensation of vertigo passes through him, leaving a woozy feeling behind. The ghost-sensation of blood under his nails and on his palms makes him itch, and he needs to wash it off, making an immediate beeline for the showers. It helps him feel a little cleaner, but the memories cling on.</p>
<p>By the time he finishes, the boarding house is waking up. The Fukurodani players are on the way to the communal bathrooms, but one person isn't with them. Peering into the room, Akaashi sees unmade futons and scattered clothes. The curtains are closed, and one human-shaped lump is buried under a blanket. The layer of fabric rises and falls in tune to Bokuto's shuddering breaths, purposeful and controlled, like when someone tries to alleviate the pain of an injury with deep breathing techniques.</p>
<p>He approaches on autopilot, unable to think past the numbness clouding his rationale. Bokuto seems to detect his presence because he calls out in a pitiful voice. “Akaashi, is that you?”</p>
<p>Of course, <em>of course</em>, the first person he seeks out is Akaashi Keiji. “It’s… it’s me, Bokuto-san. You should get up, or you’ll be late for breakfast.”</p>
<p>Bokuto groans in response. “My head <em>really</em> hurts.”</p>
<p>Akaashi clenches his fists into the back of his shirt when Bokuto lets out a pained whine. He wants to hold Bokuto close, let him rest on his lap like they did not long ago (yet it seems like centuries in the past). He can stroke his hair and caress his scalp in the hopes of relieving some of his pain.</p>
<p>“Yes, you told me you started having a headache after evening practice yesterday.” He swallows the acidic taste of another lie.</p>
<p>“Yesterday?” The top of Bokuto’s hair peeks out of the blanket, twisted into something close to a question mark. “What ha - I can’t remember yesterday-”</p>
<p>“Would you like me to get you some painkillers, Bokuto-san?” Akaashi interrupts. It isn’t good to mull over the past twenty-four hours - it’ll only make the headache worse.</p>
<p>“Yes please.” Bokuto murmurs, peeking one eye out from beneath the blanket.</p>
<p>“I’ll come back soon. Take it easy.” Akaashi leaves the room, hunching over when he slides the door closed so he can will himself not to cry.</p>
<p>He finds Coach to explain Bokuto is unwell and Coach allows him to rest for the day, knowing Bokuto rarely - if ever - gets sick. Akaashi grabs a bowl of breakfast, rice and eggs - bland enough for Bokuto to stomach it - and a packet of painkillers. When he returns, Bokuto has yet to dig himself out of his cocoon.</p>
<p>Akaashi urges him to eat before taking any medicine, otherwise he'll get a tummy ache. He makes sure Bokuto eats as much as he can handle, pops out a pill to give, and tells him to drink plenty of water, even though medicine won't soothe the pain by much.</p>
<p>“Akaashi…” Bokuto whines, writhing around on his futon, “it still hurts.”</p>
<p>“It takes at least fifteen to thirty minutes for the painkillers to start taking effect.” Akaashi explains, cleaning the crumbs of rice off the cover. “You’ll have to be patient.”</p>
<p>“Will you stay with me?” Bokuto asks. Akaash's heart cracks. “I don’t wanna be alone right now.”</p>
<p>He needs to say no. “Of course. Try get some sleep, you definitely won’t be going to practice in this state.”</p>
<p>He receives a disappointed grumble in response, but for once, Bokuto doesn’t argue. Akaashi stays at the edge of the futon, lying sideways to rest on his elbow. “Thanks, ‘kaashi.”</p>
<p>“Of course, Bokuto-san.” The top of Bokuto’s head peeks from the blankets, tufts of hair ruffled and tangled together. His hand reaches out to run through the strands and untangle them and Bokuto lets out a soft sigh.</p>
<p>He lays by Bokuto’s side until his shoulder aches, and stays there until Bokuto is asleep. If he’s late to morning practice, nobody comments on it – not even Coach.</p>
<p>--</p>
<p>When practice ends, he finds a message from Iwaizumi and Tendou asking to meet up. Akaashi sneaks out with Hinata and Lev, and Kenma and Yamaguchi soon join them. Iwaizumi and Tendou wait by the back of the garden centre.</p>
<p>"The Director ordered more Time Operatives to join us for the mission." Iwaizumi informs them, scrolling through his phone. "It seems like they know we won't be having an easy time getting past the Anti-Operative Volunteers."</p>
<p>"Tell me about it." Akaashi murmurs.</p>
<p>He doesn't suspect anything. This is the usual routine.</p>
<p>Iwaizumi shows them the obituary of hosts scheduled to arrive within the next few weeks. The names are in chronological order from the agent who will arrive tomorrow, to the last agent two weeks later. They’ll have to greet them to the 21<sup>st</sup> when they arrive.</p>
<p>“Is that all of them?” asks Kenma.</p>
<p>“So far, yes,” Iwaizumi answers, “there's priority work in other parts of the world too, so they won't send everyone our way."”</p>
<p>Akaashi scans through the names one more time to take note of their locations. But then, at the bottom, a new name pops up. The total number of Time Operatives will be sixteen now.</p>
<p>Except, it isn't the last-minute decision that makes Akaaashi's blood turn to ice.</p>
<p>It’s the host.</p>
<p>Akaashi’s world ends around him.</p>
<p>Bokuto Koutarou is the last name on the list.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>
  <strong>OMAKE</strong>
</p>
<p>It was the 13th of March, and Akaashi was oddly tired. He said he got a good night's rest for once, but he didn't look it. Or perhaps the rowdiness of the team wore him down. A strange bout of energy spiked through everyone and they riled each other up more than they practiced.</p>
<p>So instead of asking Akaashi to stay for extra practice, Bokuto offered to walk with him to his apartment. His body sparked with unbridled energy he knew he needed to walk off. Otherwise, his roommate would most definitely kick him out of the dorms.</p>
<p>The trek to Akaashi's apartment was quiet, but not unpleasant. Bokuto liked being in Akaashi's presence, and Akaashi enjoyed listening to Bokuto talk. Even if he didn't say anything much himself, a small smile played on his lips the whole way.</p>
<p>The entrance to Akaashi’s apartment appeared way to quickly for Bokuto's liking. They hesitated to part ways. Neither wanted to pop the bubble they created around each other. One where they didn't need to worry about appearances or grades or stifling parents. One where they could bask in each other's presence any expectations.</p>
<p>The sky was clear and there was no biting wind scratching their exposed skin. The moon was full, and suddenly, Bokuto got an idea.</p>
<p>"Hey, let’s take a selfie together." When Akaashi agreed, Bokuto tugged him close enough for their ribs to touch, digging out his phone. Of course, a phone camera could never capture the moon's true beauty. Not like how the human eye could. But Bokuto wasn't deterred in the slightest.</p>
<p>In the video recording Bokuto took by accident, the two were so close, if they shifted to look at each other, their noses would bump. “Is the focus good?”</p>
<p>“Bokuto-san, it’d probably be better to take a photo in the daytime,” Akaashi suggested, “the lighting isn’t very good.”</p>
<p>Bokuto angled it so the camera caught the moon. He squeezed Akaashi’s shoulder. “I know but I want to anyway. We don't take pictures together often enough. And tonight is perfect! The moon is beautiful tonight, isn’t it?”</p>
<p>The lighting was poor, but just bright enough to catch the moment realisation struck their faces. The wording wasn’t lost, and they transitioned into a bout of tense silence.</p>
<p>But neither fought to deny it.</p>
<p>“Oh, Bokuto-san, you’re recording this, not taking a photo.”</p>
<p>“What? I didn’t even realise-!”</p>
<p>The video cut off.</p>
<p>The Time Operative struggled to compute why a simple comment about the moon struck something in the two of them. He didn’t bother to ask anyone about it, because they couldn’t have answered him anyway.</p>
<p>It was once he arrived to the 21st and read more Japanese literature, that he finally understood what it meant.<br/>It's a phrase said to have been created by a writer, Natsume Souseki, who overheard a student translating a certain phrase too literally and directly. Japanese people never said that phrase so openly, so he offered another, more subtle translation.</p>
<p>
  <em>"The moon is beautiful tonight, isn’t it?”</em>
</p>
<p>The simple, delicate phrase was another way of saying <em>“I love you.”</em></p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I write when I begin and end my stories, so originally, I started writing this in November, and, conveniently, finished on New Year’s Eve, but then, the editing process had me rewriting the entire thing which is why it took until now to complete. </p>
<p>This story was a rollercoaster to write and I struggled as much as I enjoyed it. It’s not perfect by any means, but it was only meant to be a way for me to get back into writing and challenge myself to actually finish something more than a one-shot and… here we are, I guess? This final chapter has 25k words oh my god im so sorry</p>
<p>It’s been a journey, and I honestly don’t know how I feel about it, but if anyone has stuck it out until the end, and left comments or kudos or just quietly read the whole thing, I see you and I appreciate you wholeheartedly. Thank you.</p>
<p>  <strong>Additional Chapter Warnings: Violence, Character Injury, Minor Character Death (the OC’s get their consciousness transferred)</strong></p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>A long time ago, Akaashi dreamed about what the 21<sup>st</sup> century looked like, what it’d be like to live in a not-yet-dead world. All the stories and whispers he caught made it sound beautiful. And it was. <em>It is</em>. But he isn't meant to live in it, in this normal life. Normality was supposed to remain a pipe dream for a person like him.</p>
<p>Because if a person like Akaashi ever tries to reach that dream, he will fall straight into a nightmare.</p>
<p>"'kaashi, you're spacing out again." He jolts and water spills onto his legs. Bokuto is peeking out of the gym, at the steps where Akaashi sits during their break. "You okay?"</p>
<p>Wiping his knees with the hem of his shirt, Akaashi replies. "I'm fine, Bokuto-san - just a little tired."</p>
<p>"Some of the others are gonna go to the beach tonight." Bokuto says, kneeling on the step below him so Akaashi can't avoid Bokuto's gaze. Akaashi is afraid he will spot the anguish reflected behind his eyes. "Do you want to come along? We can take a break from extra practice and relax this evening."</p>
<p>He closes the cap of his bottle before any more water can spill out, frowning.</p>
<p>Being in Bokuto's presence right now is like challenging himself not to cry. The previous day’s events jab at his memory like needles so he doesn't forget, whatever is injected inside grows heavy on his conscience.</p>
<p>But Akaashi still has a job to do, even if it slowly kills him on the inside, a knife cutting him open layer by layer. "Are you sure? I can't imagine I’ll participate much. I wouldn't want to bring the group down."</p>
<p>In order to make one lie true, you need to make up seven more. As one lie produced another lie, and that lie bore yet another lie, Akaashi unintentionally became a lying machine. It’s so shameful, but he has no other choice. Something sour goes down his throat, but Akaashi keeps his expression neutral.</p>
<p>Akaashi is so scared if Bokuto stays by his side, he'll get hurt again - he's going to die. His skin feels scraped raw from dread and muscle-numbing anxiety.</p>
<p>The back of Bokuto's fingers touch his cheek, the bruise covered by a coating of make-up. The touch is endearment is so unexpected, Akaashi flinches. Bokuto's knuckles caress his cheekbone, gentle and slow, like he's petting a spooked animal unsure whether to back away or nuzzle closer.</p>
<p>"That's okay," something softens Bokuto's expression, fondness swimming behind hues of honey and sunlight gold, "it’d be a chance for you to get outta that little head of yours. But if you'd rather stay here, that's fine too. I wanted to ask because it’s not the same without you around."</p>
<p>Red welts appear on tanned thighs from how hard Akaashi digs his nails in, threatening to break skin. His voice sounds cracked and dry when he speaks, like he's swallowing desert sand. "I'll go."</p>
<p>"Really?" Bokuto beams, leaping to his full height. "You don't need to go because I said something, Akaashi-"</p>
<p>"No, no, you're right I need to - I should get out of my head for a little bit." Akaashi takes Bokuto's extended hand, springing to his feet when he's pulled up with too much strength.</p>
<p>Bokuto relays the whereabouts of the beach, and all the things they can do there, as they trudge back inside. Akaashi listens and hums with idle attention, in a dreamlike state. He squeezes Bokuto's fingers, and Bokuto squeezes back.</p>
<p>He doesn't let go, doesn't beg him to revive the previous Akaashi Keiji, and Akaashi isn't sure whether that convinces him this is reality. Because Bokuto doesn't remember, and he has no idea what's going to happen, and all of it is enough to make Akaashi want to cry again.</p>
<p>When his brain connected the image of Bokuto's name on the obituary list, the knowledge that Bokuto was to become a host for a Time Operative circuited fiery synapses all through his body. He panicked, blanking with fright, and he wanted to run. He wanted to run to Bokuto and escape this inevitable future. But what the fuck good would that do? No matter where he ran, there was no way to avoid this, and he didn't know what to do anymore.</p>
<p>Bokuto was going to die.</p>
<p>Kenma pacified Akaashi, convincing Akaashi to configure the precise location of Bokuto's death with the others before acting. If anything, Hinata reasoned, it'd help them determine why the Taskforce deemed him a suitable host. Because to them, Bokuto Koutarou's life was worth taking away for the greater good of the future.</p>
<p>The coordinates identified an old warehouse - somewhere in an abandoned industrial estate near the outskirts of Tokyo, where Mortos was manufactured. Digging further, Lev found CCTV footage playing replay clips of empty roads - somebody was there, and they didn't want to get caught.</p>
<p>"Must be the Anti-Operative Volunteers." Tendou concluded, lips pressed together in deliberation. "It adds up, doesn’t it?"</p>
<p>But why would Bokuto be there? What reason could he have to go to such a place...? Unless-</p>
<p>"They're going to kidnap Bokuto-san, aren't they?" The realisation slipped out of Yamaguchi with a shaky exhale. "I mean - Ikehara saw his face, and so did the Anti-Operative who rescued him. They know he's Akaashi-san's weakness, and they will take advantage of it."</p>
<p><em>Weakness</em>. The one word was a blow to his pride, thrown so bluntly, and sharp like whiplash on his skin. Akaashi was never supposed to let this happen. He should have never allowed Bokuto to get so close to him, to become his single greatest weakness.</p>
<p>“So the Taskforce <em>kill</em> him for it?” Hinata seethed, clenching his jaw to suppress his anger towards the organisation.</p>
<p>People like Hinata, who sewed their hearts on their sleeve, hurt so much easier, and revealed so much more than they could hide. But Hinata liked Bokuto a lot; admired him as a captain, a talented volleyball player, and a kind mentor - even a friend.</p>
<p>His hazel eyes swam with unbridled rage, and they mirrored the pain Akaashi wrangled with on the inside.</p>
<p>(Akaashi always said Hinata and him were on opposite sides of the Strategist spectrum - but maybe, they weren't as different as he believed.)</p>
<p>"I'm guessing they wanna use Bokuto-san as a host to gain intel about the Anti-Operatives whilst acting as a hostage." Yamaguchi theorised, and it sounded reasonable enough to be the truth. "The Engineers can get info on the Volunteers, and send it our way."</p>
<p>Akaashi wanted to burst out laughing, or screaming, or crying. Or maybe punching a brick wall would be better, until the skin around his knuckles tore. But he stood in place, teeth flashing in the sunset, sharp and threatening. "They can fucking try it."</p>
<p>What a Taskforce thing to do. Who would expect anything different? From the organisation which intended to sell them out to the enemy if it meant keeping their cover, edging on the line between legality and murder every fucking day.</p>
<p>And Akaashi? Akaashi wasn't any better. It was ingrained into him the hard way; never mix feelings with work. Never disobey the chain of command. Never question your orders. Protocol was what held him at gunpoint, waiting to cross the line.</p>
<p>Protocol 3. A life is not to be taken, nor is it to be saved, unless previously ordered. Killing innocents and saving those predicted to die is forbidden. <em>Do not interfere with the natural order</em>.</p>
<p>He hadn't batted an eye - even agreed to welcome new agents into the 21<sup>st</sup>. It wasn't until Bokuto's name appeared on the bottom of that list, trepidation and rage rose to the surface.</p>
<p>Akaashi was truly a horrible person - too greedy and too selfish to be called a Time Operative. There isn’t supposed to be hesitation in a choice between duty and love.</p>
<p>The volleyball flies to his side of the court, and he jumps to block it – not high enough. While waiting for the opposing team to serve, he wonders if letting the world burn to ash is worth it if it means Bokuto can stay close to him. Akaashi sets toss after robotic toss to his teammates, too lost in questions to give it his all.</p>
<p>Does he deserve to plead for Bokuto's life when he never did for anyone else?</p>
<p>No. This isn't a question about morals. Not when he knows Bokuto is not supposed to die - killed by an Anti-Operative Volunteer or by an agent transferring their consciousness into his body. This is not supposed to be happening.</p>
<p>The Faction Councilmen used to grill the Taskforce's morality on the grounds of killing innocent people in the 21<sup>st</sup>. It was for their cause, they said, there was no other choice. Akaashi never liked it - but the one time he tried to save someone, he got punished. Morality aside, it was the only method they had. How else could they save the future? There was no time left to keep searching for alternatives - it's either go back in time, or let humanity perish.</p>
<p>The shrill screech of the whistle signifies the end of their final match. Fukurodani lost, and they finish the day with a round of flying dive drills. The court is less energetic than usual. It's their fourth day of training camp, the exhaustion is setting into worn muscles and taking a toll on their bodies by now.</p>
<p>And the mission is tomorrow.</p>
<p>Akaashi wonders, not for the first time, if they’ll make it out alive.</p>
<p>After a shower and change of clothes, Akaashi skips dinner with the rest of the group in favour of going to the beach. Their group is comprised of about a dozen imposing and noisy volleyball players at the bus stop.</p>
<p>He gravitates towards Kenma, where Kuroo is at his side, so close it appears as if their ribs are touching. The proximity doesn't seem to bother Kenma. But when the bus arrives, Kenma hesitates to follow the others. It's crowded, even worse with the club members squished together for the next twenty minutes without any escape.</p>
<p>Yeah okay, Akaashi understands now why the bus doesn't appeal to Kenma.</p>
<p>Kuroo nudges him forward, whispering reassurance into his ear.</p>
<p>"It's okay, Kenma. It's just the bus." Akaashi affirms, reaching out towards his friend. "Help me beat the new Superstar Rhythm level on my phone. I can't get all-perfect's on it."</p>
<p>Kenma relaxes, gratitude evident in his eyes, and accepts Akaashi's offer. Kuroo catches his gaze from behind him with a faint smile. Clambering inside, people stumble on their shoes and the metal railings dig into their hips, and Akaashi keeps Kenma distracted until they arrive.</p>
<p>The second the doors open, Kenma jumps out and inhales the salty-sea air like the first gulp of oxygen. Akaashi follows, awed by the foamy waves in the distant waters, illuminated by streetlights and open bars. He's never seen a body of water so big before - at least not in person.</p>
<p>Kuroo materialises beside him, leaning closer until he's out of Kenma's earshot.</p>
<p>"It's incredible how you two only met this week," Kuroo muses, clueless to the way it makes Akaashi's limbs stiffen against his sides, "but you're so good at reading him. All his anxiety cues and habits."</p>
<p>Akaashi forces a dismissive chuckle, cracking with nerves. "I'm a med student - they teach us this kind of stuff."</p>
<p>Under the izayaka made of sun-baked wood, Kuroo's features glisten with acacia yellow and white from the overblown fairy-lights. They create star-speckled freckles on his cheeks, and even with Kuroo's terrible case of bedhead, Akaashi can admit he’s handsome. Kuroo hums, lowering his head with the deliberate intention to study Akaashi's side-profile. "For real? That's cool - useful too."</p>
<p>"Yep." He says with his gaze darting away.</p>
<p>There has always been an awkwardness between them. Without Kenma or Bokuto to act as a buffer, it becomes stifling. He gets uneasy around Kuroo - not in a way that makes him uncomfortable or unsafe. Kuroo possesses this unyielding aura, the same one he has during a volleyball match. A sharp focus in his eyes, analysing his opponent, with a cat-like grin stretched on his lips, showing a glint of sharp teeth.</p>
<p>Out of all the individuals in the 21<sup>st</sup>, Kuroo Tetsurou would be the first to connect the dots and discover time travellers hiding in society. Akaashi walks on a tightrope whenever he's in Kuroo's presence - maybe not one tightrope, but dozens of them - struggling to balance his lies with his truths. Otherwise, Kuroo will see right through him.</p>
<p>Akaashi wonders how Kenma managed to get away with it - when Kuroo was so close to his host - they were <em>in love</em> with each other, for fuck's sake.</p>
<p>(Then again, Akaashi's in a similar predicament too, isn't he?)</p>
<p>"Anyway, thanks for taking care of Kenma." They approach the rift between concrete and pebbly sand. "It's nice that he's found a good friend in you."</p>
<p>Akaashi's heart twists around in his chest... but in a warm sort of way. It isn't bad. Not at all. To get approval of the person most important in Kenma's life is an honour, in Akaashi's book.</p>
<p>"Of course, Kuroo-san." Akaashi says. "Kenma is a lovely person - he's quiet, sure, but it's who he is - and he shows his care and affection in other ways."</p>
<p>The corners of Kuroo's eyes crinkle. "Yeah, he's a big softie."</p>
<p>Akaashi kind of wants to say the big softie here is Kuroo, but refrains. It won't do any good for either of them points it out.</p>
<p>The temperature at the seaside is cooler than the training camp. Akaashi unties the jacket around his waist to cover himself. The sand is strange and little jagged under his feet, so he ambles through with care. Along the shore, some of the others are in the water, bantering as they splash one another.</p>
<p>(It feels reminiscent of a distinct video recording he once watched, all that time ago in the future.)</p>
<p>"Akaashi!" Bokuto wades in the water, waving him over.</p>
<p>An automatic smile appears on Akaashi's lips as he waves back. Kuroo smirks at him, cheeky with amusement. "Bokuto is a lovely person too, don't you think?"</p>
<p>Akaashi blanches, something fiery crawling up his neck. "Yeah, he's my friend."</p>
<p>"Friend, huh?" This. This is why Akaashi is so wary around Kuroo. He acts bold and omniscient, like he can figure out all of Akaashi's secrets with a five-minute analysis – which isn’t a bluff. "You do seem to be <em>very</em> good friends."</p>
<p>Trudging to the edge of the water, Bokuto reaches for Akaashi, coaxing him to come closer. "Don't tell me you're still afraid of the water."</p>
<p>Kuroo nudges him and Akaashi jumps in surprised, not expecting it, toes slipping into wet sand where the waves receded.</p>
<p>“I promise you, it’s fine,” Bokuto swears, even though goosebumps rise all over his skin, “the water is great.”</p>
<p>Akaashi's expression dips into uncertainty. “Bokuto-san, I don’t think – <em>Bokuto-san!</em>”</p>
<p>Without preamble, Bokuto grabs his forearm and tugs him into the water. Akaashi releases a gasp when arctic water laps at his ankles. Kuroo is cackling on the shore with Kenma, who popped up somewhere along the way. Over the rush of waves splashing against stone and sand, their voices sound faraway.</p>
<p>And the water is <em>cold</em>, so fucking cold, leaving him stumbling in an attempt to escape - except Bokuto wraps around his middle and stops him. He's laughing, loud and boisterous and right in Akaashi's ear, enjoying his suffering. Akaashi's glare tries to match the ice of the sea, but when he scrutinises Bokuto, nothing but mirth and affection reflect back. He's having the time of his life.</p>
<p>“Holy crap, ‘kaashi, your face,” he cackles, cheeks a ruddy red, “you looked so scared– I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you - but the water is fine, there’s nothing to be afraid of. And I’m right here to protect you.”</p>
<p>If he knew the truth, he'd get why such a statement was redundant. Akaashi can protect himself on his own. He's trained in... oh, what does it matter - not like it'll stop Bokuto anyway. He'd probably punch the ocean for Akaashi if he asked.</p>
<p>Arms encircle Akaashi's waist, Bokuto’s chin rested on his shoulder. The proximity makes warmth blossom inside him, starting from his very core. This close, Akaashi can smell... did Bokuto put cologne on this evening? That's... interesting.</p>
<p>It isn't until Bokuto observes him, does Akaashi register how close they are. The streets in the distance illuminate his skin coral pink and apricot orange, speckling stars the colour of honey and gold residing in his eyes. A galaxy in themselves, hypnotising Akaashi under Bokuto’s spell.</p>
<p>"Are you..." Bokuto's whisper trails off in the breadth of air between them, gaze dipping to Akaashi's lips. "Are you cold?"</p>
<p>Akaashi licks his dry lips, and Bokuto doesn't miss the movement. "No, I'm not cold at all, Bokuto-san."</p>
<p>He is safe and sheltered in this bubble, blocking the impending doom of duties. He wants to lean closer, close the gap between them until their lips connect. He wants to <em>kiss</em> Bokuto-</p>
<p>Their lips would have brushed against each other before a loud beep shatters the bubble between them, and they crash back to reality. The noise is coming from Akaashi's pocket, his phone set with the specific tone set for messages from work.</p>
<p>With a sharp gasp, he slips from Bokuto's arms and stumbles out of the water. “Assignments!”</p>
<p>Bokuto seems dazed and heady, not yet back in the present. His cheeks are rosy pink from more than mirth and summer-night heat. “H-huh? Assignments?”</p>
<p>“I-I’ve an assignment due soon, and I haven’t started yet!” Akaashi blurts out. His face is hot, his ears are hot, and even his neck is hot. “I need to go!”</p>
<p>He runs barefoot, remembering to put his shoes on before he reaches the pavement. He doesn't check his phone until he's at the bus stop, too afraid to stop and allow his brain to catch up with his body. Kenma is at the bus stop too, having also received the same message. Seeing Akaashi's flustered state, he explains there's no emergency, but a request from Iwaizumi and Tendou to meet tonight. So they hop on the next bus and go to their usual meeting point.</p>
<p>Akaashi prefers not deliberate about Bokuto, he needs to forget what transpired. They were so close Akaashi could count Bokuto's pretty eyelashes, spot the faint acne scars on his cheeks, and the freckles on the tip of his nose. He needs to forget all of it. Except he’s thinking about it. Right now, he can't stop thinking about it.</p>
<p>If only it were socially acceptable to smack yourself in the face. He internally reprimands himself for envisioning those kinds of daydreams. For wanting to <em>kiss</em> Bokuto.</p>
<p>He shouldn't be compelled by these kinds of desires. Not now, not ever again.</p>
<p>If he acts on his emotions, Bokuto is going to get hurt again.</p>
<p>--</p>
<p>Tendou procured a van for the mission, Iwaizumi stocking it with armaments, and they add the finishing components. Lev and Kenma connect portable computers in the back for Akaashi and Hinata can keep surveillance. Hinata helps to screw the cables into the processor screens. Yamaguchi wedges first-aid equipment under the seats, and Akaashi arranges their gear. Bulletproof vests, knife holsters and suppressors, and earpieces for communication.</p>
<p>Yamaguchi tries on the gloves, fitting them tight over his wrists. He hasn't spoken a word since they met up. An eerie silence settled on him, pensive and ruminative. Nobody is sure where to begin by consoling him, not even Hinata, who is the closet to their Healer.</p>
<p>The Time Operatives play the waiting game, and take no action to pry. But once they've packed the van and prepared to part ways, Yamaguchi finally speaks up.</p>
<p>"Are we," his shoulders rise to his ears when the attention is drawn to him, "are we bad?"</p>
<p>The stars aren't visible because the lights of the city drown them out in darkness. Akaashi searches anyway, hoping they might give an echo of the truth.</p>
<p>"A yes of no answer doesn’t really exist for your question, Tadashi-kun." Tendou leans against the van with a smile wavering between conflicted emotions.</p>
<p>"We... well, we could be saving so many people." Yamaguchi lists off; the obituary list, the hosts, the victims who could have lived for longer. "If the price comes at the cost of so many lives being lost... if the only way to do it is to kill people who could be alive right now then, does the future-"</p>
<p>He cuts himself off with a sharp inhale. <em>Does the future deserve saving?</em></p>
<p>"Our ways may be harsh, but it's what we do to survive." A faraway fog clouds Lev's expression, and the instinctual recitation of rules answering for him. "We do what we must to ensure the survival of the human race."</p>
<p>With a soft shake of his head, Yamaguchi refuses to take as fact, and struggles to articulate his question without risking a forced consciousness transfer. The tension is thinner than ice, and one wrong move will drown them all.</p>
<p>"But... but there are so many terrible things in the 21<sup>st</sup> century - corruption, and an underworld full of horrifying shit." Yamaguchi rebukes, fidgeting with the gloves which don't quite fit right on him. "People here don't want anything but to take and take and <em>take</em>. They don't care about anything except themselves so why - do we deserve-"</p>
<p>He slaps a palm over his mouth, forcing himself to shut up before the Taskforce eavesdrops in. Akaashi understands what he wanted to ask.</p>
<p>
  <em>Do we deserve to make life better in the future if this is what we're helping continue?</em>
</p>
<p>Do they deserve to save the future? Does this world deserve to be saved? This world possesses horrible cruelty, and just as much enchanting beauty. Nature's flowers smell sweet, tinged with the copper tang of blood on their petals. An immeasurable amount of greed rests within a human soul. It coerces them to push others aside if it benefits them. It tells them to squish someone under their shoe if it means they can climb higher. Is this how society operates? Is this the pinnacle of humanity? Greed and corruption and power?</p>
<p>"If we have the knowledge and resources to help save the world, should we not try to do it anyway?" Like the first ray of sunshine, Hinata brightens this morbid atmosphere. "If we have the power in us to help better the world, we have to use it."</p>
<p>He smiles, shining with bright, promising optimism nobody saw in the dark tunnel.</p>
<p>"I have a... different philosophy to the Taskforce." Hinata murmurs with caution, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "I came to the 21<sup>st</sup> century to save people. I do what I can to make a difference where I can. Sometimes it means saving people, and other times it means I have to stand back and let them die - because I don't have the power to do anything about it. But if we wreck ourselves with data of how many people in the world are suffering - it won't do anyone any good."</p>
<p>They play the waiting game with anxious dread. Hinata verbalised his belief with an air of readiness, as if expecting the Taskforce to rip away his consciousness at any second. Akaashi's heart thrums, pounding against his ribcage.</p>
<p>"I came to the 21<sup>st</sup> to save the future, and help people." He admits, more confidence when nothing happens. "Whether it means saving hundreds, or saving one - I am doing the best I can, in my situation, and under the rules of the Taskforce."</p>
<p>Stood by a dubious van in an abandoned alleyway, Akaashi has an epiphany. It strikes with the same magnificent insignificance as when he found out the stars were real.</p>
<p>“Maybe the answer is different for everybody.” Iwaizumi mutters. “Even if it’s only one person in the world you want to save, it’s enough of an answer.”</p>
<p>Like swimming to the surface from the bottom of the sea, Akaashi finally escaped the shackles drowning him, and taken his first gulp of air.</p>
<p>Golden eyes and a dazzling smile flashes through his mind. Strong arms, then the beautiful arch of a wingless back as it flies into the sky. The heat of skin seeping into Akaashi's shirt, holding him, and the sound of two heartbeats racing as one.</p>
<p>"The Taskforce raised us and taught us everything they know." Hinata closes his eyes as if it will bring forth harrowing memories quicker. "They told us we couldn't have anything, because one day, we'd to step into somebody else's life. We were practically wired not to feel emotions - because our instructors never did either. We grew up around AI and machines who didn't have any hearts to begin with, so we thought the same too. Then we get thrown into a world where people knew what love meant, with the expectation that we would never feel it.”</p>
<p>"They told us the only thing that matters is saving the world - nothing else is more important than the mission."</p>
<p>Akaashi exhales, with images of Bokuto’s smile swirling through his memory.</p>
<p>“But then… but then something else shows up or someone comes along in this new life, and… and then, you’re not so sure anymore.”</p>
<p>Bokuto. It’s always been Bokuto.</p>
<p>This is not how he was wired to be. It shouldn’t be possible for him to feel so strongly about someone else, let alone a person from the 21<sup>st</sup>. But Akaashi's heart - with all its thorns and knives and ice - begins to melt.</p>
<p>“You find someone in this world - beyond the corruption, the hatred, the pain – and you consider a new possibility - <em>maybe there’s something more important out there than the mission</em>. It’s so selfish, going against all we were taught but… but maybe that person is going to be the one who keeps you going. Maybe they are the reason you start believing this world is worth saving, if it means you can be by their side.”</p>
<p>A silence encompasses their little group of Time Operatives. It carries on long enough to become awkward, and when Hinata opens his eyes again, losing track of time in unpleasant nostalgia, his face turns pink.</p>
<p>“What a philosopher you’ve become, Shoyou-kun.” Tendou snickers, pointing between Hinata and Akaashi. "A little surprising, coming from a Strategist - no offense but you two are the last people I expect to figure out your emotions."</p>
<p>A chuckle escapes Akaashi's lips. "None taken."</p>
<p>Lev hums. "It's not easy to get accustomed to that kind of thing, but Strategists are raised into puppets for the Director... so you two never experienced any of that, did you?"</p>
<p>Raised in isolation, away from the other categorised roles, and their own. Exposed only to what the instructors wanted them to see, and information they wanted them to retain. A world so dark and cruel, corrupt and greedy and everything you shouldn't be -<em> do you understand me? You mustn't stray from your mission - you must never succumb to your emotions. You are in the 21<sup>st</sup> century for one goal, and only one goal.</em></p>
<p>Hinata's smile shifts into something pensive and sad, reflecting what Akaashi contends with inside.</p>
<p>When Yamaguchi notices, he nudges Hinata's arm. “Hinata was pretty freaked out when he first arrived in the 21<sup>st</sup>. It's kinda hilarious to look back on now, but back then, I wondered how the hell he'll adjust to his host, the complete opposite to him.”</p>
<p>A deeper flush creeps along Hinata's cheeks, and he tugs on the ends of his hair in an attempt to cover it up. "It was so embarrassing! I had such a hard time getting used to my host's life. His personality was so loud like <em>gwahh </em>and he was <em>so </em>energetic. But I guess, one day, I started seeing things differently. I saw the world how he saw it before me, all the people who loved him, and the joy of playing volleyball."</p>
<p>His fingers untangle from his hair, and Hinata's gaze drifts to Akaashi, and it’s like he's speaking to him – as if he knows exactly what Akaashi has been going through. "The Taskforce claimed their information was never wrong, because they dug it up from the past and saw how dangerous it was – but I’m not convinced by it. Not anymore anyway. There’s a lot of good here, and I want to protect it.”</p>
<p>Akaashi peers over at Kenma, and he agrees. He thinks of Bokuto, and he agrees.</p>
<p>“Everything happens for a reason.” Hinata says. “Whether it’s decided by the future, or some sort of unpredictable change in time, I don’t know – and I don’t really care. But I am grateful for it. Whatever it is. Because it brought you all into my life. And I will do my best to keep it safe, and save the world.”</p>
<p>Akaashi agrees with his whole heart.</p>
<p>--</p>
<p>Time passes in a too-quick fog the next day. Fukurodani win more practice matches than they lose, the improvement is astounding in their team. But Akaashi can't take pride in their efforts when the mission is tonight.</p>
<p>Night arrives and once his teammates are asleep, it's time to go. Akaashi slips out of the futon, silent apart from the muffled pat of socked feet on tatami flooring. He already dons black cargo pants under the blanket with a long-sleeved shirt the same colour. He arranges the futon into the haphazard tidiness of someone who's snuck out of bed to go to the bathroom or a midnight snack, then digs around the bottom of his bag to grab a pair of combat boots. Somebody stirs nearby and Akaashi stills in the shadows, listening for any more noise over the whir of the aircon, but this restless sleeper mutters about dreams, and dozes.</p>
<p>Exhaling in relief, Akaashi grabs his shoes and makes to bolt out the door. But when he passes by Bokuto's futon, tufts of white hair peek from the blanket, and Akaashi's movement falters.</p>
<p>(He's scared. He's scared of what they'll encounter on their mission. He's scared if he leaves, he won’t return.)</p>
<p>(And he's terrified if he does return, then Bokuto Koutarou - <em>his </em>Bokuto - will be gone.)</p>
<p>Such is the price to pay for greed.</p>
<p>But Protocol 1 says the mission comes first. It’s what he was born and raised to do, why he was sent to this century before the world died. He can’t abandon it. And so, Akaashi leaves.</p>
<p>Some streets away, the white van waits. Iwaizumi is at the steering wheel. Tendou is in the passenger’s seat, fiddling with his earpiece. Iwaizumi adjusts his bulletproof vest, and loads up his weapons. Akaashi nods in greeting, strapping into his vest and leather gloves, and sticks the comm behind his ear. Even if Hinata, Yamaguchi and Akaashi are going to remain in the van, it's mandatory to be prepared for anything - especially when they’re aware Anti-Operative Volunteers will be around.</p>
<p>He tightens the fingerless gloves around his wrists, and the others pour in through the back. Kenma and Lev prepare the processors. Akaashi assists Hinata and Yamaguchi with putting on the gear, and once the agents are ready, Iwaizumi turns the ignition on.</p>
<p>The thirty-minute journey to the airport drops to fifteen in the middle of the night. Traffic is minimal on the city streets at this time, and it isn't until they approach the airport terminals that cars jam the road. An airport never sleeps at any point of the day. Once they escape the heavy flow, Iwaizumi drives into a secluded corner, one tiny gap between the two terminal buildings serving as their point of entry to the plane parking zones. Lev has already disabled the cameras, and entrusts the supervision to the Strategists.</p>
<p>“Alright, we all ready?" Tendou glances at the back, where Kenma is readjusting his vest and Lev is pocketing his equipment. "Let's stop the destruction of Japan's capital city."</p>
<p>Kenma and Lev hop out the van, Iwaizumi and Tendou immediately at their sides. Yamaguchi moves to sit behind the steering wheel, prepared for an emergency escape. Iwaizumi adjusts his gear, making sure everything is where it ought to be and his weapons are loaded. The fingerless leather gloves make his hands look bigger, strong enough to punch through a brick wall if need be.</p>
<p>Kenma locks onto Akaashi when he moves to close the backdoor. Under the fluorescent lights of the airport, the wordless emotions he always hides are exposed. “Be safe, alright?”</p>
<p>Akaashi smirks. “I should be saying that to you.”</p>
<p>They part ways, silently imploring the other to be okay.</p>
<p>The Hackers and Warriors memorised the airport layout thanks to some blueprints they found. The hangar will take about ten minutes to reach on foot - less if they rush. Inside the oldest one, a freight plane has big containers of Mortos, waiting to get sold to militaries all over the world.</p>
<p>Mortos is to be kept in near-freezing temperatures. It will explode if it rises above ten degrees. However, it can't be kept in one container for long either, or it will erode and break the casing. Once the casing breaks, the thermometer is non-functioning, and the sensors can no longer signal the rise in temperatures. No one is alerted of the impeding explosion minutes away. The Hackers will reverse-engineer the system in order to suppress the explosion, and keep it to the hangar.</p>
<p>But when they reach the hangar and Tendou describes their surroundings, he points out something strange. "There’re no guards around."</p>
<p>A new-discovered substance, one this volatile and important for warfare, would not be left unprotected.</p>
<p>"None?" Hinata’s posture stiffens, muscles rigid.</p>
<p>There has to be some sort of regular security, around the hangar, outside the doors, at least. If there isn't, then Anti-Operative Volunteers will certainly have the place surrounded.</p>
<p>"None." Tendou parrots, and Akaashi hears grunts as they heave open the doors. "No one’s inside."</p>
<p>Akaashi swipes through CCTV footage in the hopes of finding clues, reasons to explain why their enemy isn’t here. Is something going on? Did Anti-Operatives redirect attention away from the hangar. But in all the cameras, life goes on as normal with nothing out of place.</p>
<p>When the agents sneak on the freight plane, nothing happens. When Lev and Kenma buckle down and focus on reducing the explosion’s impact, no one comes. When they cover the containers with suppression foils, no one shows up.</p>
<p>When they exit the hangar, nobody appears. No one tries to stop them.</p>
<p>The shivery feeling of wrong worsens.</p>
<p>“Are you certain no one’s there?” Yamaguchi asks, tapping a nervous rhythm into the steering wheel.</p>
<p>“It’s completely empty.” Iwaizumi responds. “But it might be a trap – maybe they’re waiting for the right moment to strike. Keep a sharp watch of your surroundings.”</p>
<p>Why would the Anti-Operative Volunteers wait for them to suppress the explosion, when they want it to happen? Why would they <em>let </em>the agents succeed? Akaashi shakes his head. This isn't adding up, there must be more to it, something he's missing, they must be after <em>something</em>-</p>
<p>“It’s a distraction.” Hinata gasps. “They’re after something else, they’re giving up this leverage because they want to get something else.”</p>
<p>"Huh?" Kenma grunts through the comm, the sound of metal against metal grating in their ears as they close the hangar. "But what’d they be after?"</p>
<p>The Anti-Operative Volunteers’ objective - to prevent the future from being saved. They want the world to burn, because they believe it doesn’t deserve a second chance, and they will be the ones to burn it if they must. The law of nature doesn't apply to them, and they will take whatever they want to reach their end goal.</p>
<p>Akaashi remembers Ikehara Jirou’s words.</p>
<p>
  <em>I’m forbidden from killing you since you’re kinda important for our goal… </em>
</p>
<p>They can't kill Akaashi because they need a Strategist for whatever their goal. Another Strategist who isn't Ikehara. And they will take whatever they want if it means achieving the end-product. Why Akaashi though? He isn’t the only Strategist in Tokyo.</p>
<p>Ikehara's hysteric grin remains vivid in Akaashi's memory.</p>
<p>
  <em>You come with me and I promise to leave your precious friend alone…</em>
</p>
<p>A sudden chill hit his core so sharp it feels like his lungs got pierced with fear. "They're going for the boarding house."</p>
<p>Hinata and Yamaguchi snap up, backs ramrod straight and faces ashen with shock.</p>
<p>“<em>What!?</em> Why are they going for the volleyball teams?” Kenma demands.</p>
<p>They want Akaashi, don't they? Any Time Operative who refuses to join the Volunteers gets killed. But Ikehara was told not to kill him. They want him alive - but <em>why?</em></p>
<p>Whatever it is, they know Akaashi will never agree, not unless it was by force. But Anti-Operatives know a Time Operative's loyalty to the Taskforce won't be deterred by torture or death - no.</p>
<p>Even so, Time Operatives have weaknesses; a purpose they won’t surrender from, a secret they must keep, a person they care for – and if it’s taken away, it will make an agent <em>beg </em>for mercy.</p>
<p>And Ikehara knows what Akaashi's weakness is.</p>
<p>“W-we have to go back!” Akaashi exclaims, looking around the van desperately, but unable to focus on what he’s seeing. “They - we need to get to the boarding house, they’re after Bokuto-san!”</p>
<p>Over the comm, Kenma curses. Akaashi forces himself to quash the primal desperation clawing and begging him to return as fast as possible. It’s making him tunnel-vision. There's still a mission to complete, and it's more important than anything. Or anyone.</p>
<p>The mission is the priority – and there’s nothing he can do about it.</p>
<p>The Hackers and Warriors sprint back, and once they’re back in the van, Yamaguchi floors it. The drive to the boarding house from the airport takes less than ten minutes.</p>
<p>Akaashi doesn’t even notice the rumble of the explosion contained to the hangar, pleading to the stars for Bokuto’s safety, for everyone’s safety. Hoping, for once, his intuition is wrong.</p>
<p>But it never is. And when they swivel around the corner, the boarding house is swallowed by fire and ash.</p>
<p>Yamaguchi gasps and the van screeches to a halt outside the front entrance.</p>
<p>Panic overtakes him, and his whole body trembles. They’re here, the Anti-Operative Volunteers are <em>here</em> and they don’t give a shit about secrets or Protocol or the Taskforce because they <em>want</em> the world to know.</p>
<p>Iwaizumi clambers out of the van with a sniper, and runs into the inferno. Tendou hops out and the rest follow, searching the rubble for enemies or victims, but no one is here. Over the crackle of wood and fabric burning, no sound is heard. It’s silent. Not a single scream for help.</p>
<p>Akaashi catches movement beyond the flames, and manages to shout a "<em>fuck, get down!</em>" before bullets spray over their heads. The shooting pauses for a second, and Iwaizumi jumps up to snipe the outlying figure. He nicks their shoulder, sending them toppling to the ground. Akaashi takes the chance to rush through the debris towards their attacker.</p>
<p>The boarding house collapses into a heap of crumbling old wood and ruined furniture. Gas canisters explode with a thunderous roar when the flames reach. The ground trembles, its reverberation causing Kenma to stumble and fall on his knees. Lev backtracks to drag him by the forearm so he doesn’t get left behind.</p>
<p>Akaashi approaches the spot where the figure fell, but sees no one. He scours the area, but finds no one. The brightness of flames juxtaposition with the darkness of night, and his vision struggles to adjust to the intensity. He doesn't see it, but he detects a crack of footsteps on weak wood, and spins around as a masked figure jumps from the rubble.</p>
<p>He ducks before a shotgun slug grazes his forearm. The masked Anti-Operative Volunteer lunges for him with a shotgun dangling on his uninjured arm.</p>
<p>“Hello, hello!” The familiar voice trills from behind the mask. “So glad you made it back on time! We were about to move on to the main event!”</p>
<p>Kenma shoves past Akaashi to press his pistol to Ikehara's jugular, so fast he doesn’t even register it. Ikehara cackles. "Are you sure you want to do that, sweetheart?"</p>
<p>Akaashi seethes with rage, fists clenched and vision blurred by orange-red flames. “What the <em>fuck</em> are you doing?”</p>
<p>“We’re having a grand old time in the 21<sup>st</sup>,” Ikehara tilts his head with ease, uncaring of the pistol under his jaw “you should try it – it’s wonderful to possess all this power and knowledge in the palm of your hands, isn’t it? The power to do <em>anything</em> you want.”</p>
<p>Ikehara points to the training gym. The lights inside are on, but the doors are shut tight. It’s too far to see, but something metal glints around the doorhandles – chains are around the door.</p>
<p>Akaashi glares at him, teeth bared. “What did you do?”</p>
<p>“We had to wheedle out your friend somehow.” Ikehara explains with a dismissive shrug. “Starting a fire is so much better than searching through the entire place. He’s pretty easy to spot – the desperate thing, calling out for <em>Akaashi, Akaashi, where is Akaashi</em>, like an obedient dog. The rest got packed into that gym – give ‘em a taste of what it’s like living in an overcrowded Faction sleeping room.”</p>
<p>Ikehara removes the mask to expose twisted features in a way only those who gain joy from pain seem to possess. Akaashi’s blood pounds in his ears. They’ve taken Bokuto, they took him, and they’re going to <em>hurt him, they’re going to kill him, they-</em></p>
<p>Kenma digs the weapon harder into Ikehara’s jaw, but he retaliates by resting the shotgun against Kenma's stomach. This close, his guts will be splattered on the floor. “Don’t be like that. You can’t kill me, remember?”</p>
<p>“Oh, you are going to <em>wish</em> you could be killed.” Kenma growls.</p>
<p>Akaashi moves closer, slow and deliberate to intimidate Ikehara. His legs wobble. "Where is he?"</p>
<p>“Come with us, and we’ll let you see your precious little boyfriend.” Ikehara counters.</p>
<p>Akaashi wavers. It isn’t going to be so simple – not with this Strategist.</p>
<p>“I promise, we’ll bring you right to him, if you agree.” A twitch in his brow is the tell-tale sign Ikehara is lying.</p>
<p>Akaashi knows this is a trap. He <em>knows</em>. So why is he still considering saying yes?</p>
<p>So many questions are unanswered. Pieces missing in a haze of incomplete puzzles and inaccurate reports. Why do they need Akaashi? Why are they doing this?</p>
<p>“Answer me this,” Akaashi swallows the desperation coating his throat, “what do you want? What's your mission here?”</p>
<p>The word <em>mission</em> makes Ikehara laugh like Akaashi shared a joke with him. “What do we want? It’s simple, the Anti-Operatives need you. If you come with us, we’ll leave and stop traumatising your poor little friends.”</p>
<p>Akaashi holds his breath, leaning forward as if he will see the answer in Ikehara’s features. “Why do you need me?”</p>
<p>“We want you to join the Anti-Faction rebels,” Ikehara states, “to prevent the Director from ever existing.”</p>
<p>Something in the universe shifts, tilting in the wrong direction, and stays there. “What are you talking about?”</p>
<p>“Oh, don’t tell me,” he gasps dramatically, like Akaashi just announced the best piece of news of the week, “you don’t <em>know? </em>The Taskforce never told you?”</p>
<p>Whatever answer he was expecting – this is worse. So much worse.</p>
<p>“You’re the Time Operative making up the fundamentals of the Director.” Akaashi’s world crashes and halts. “You’re the <em>creator</em> of the Director.”</p>
<p>This time, nothing will be able to build it back up.</p>
<p>“Huh? The Director?” Akaashi stutters, backing away in shock. “The Director is the most advanced AI ever created. It was invented after the discovery of time travel – which is years away. It can't be possible that I’m the one who creates it.”</p>
<p>“Time Operative 4028 was the greatest Strategist the Taskforce has ever created.” Ikehara recites like he's reading a history book. He pushes Kenma's pistol away, who is too stunned to do anything. “He went back to the 21<sup>st</sup> and programmed the basics of superhuman AI. The same ones used to make the AI you call the Director."</p>
<p>History is etched into Akaashi's brain, everything the instructors taught him. But this. He never knew this.</p>
<p>"But this programming wasn't good enough, it didn't function how it was supposed to." Ikehara continues. "They needed something human, something <em>real</em>. So the Taskforce decided to take Time Operative 4028's consciousness, and install it into the Director."</p>
<p>Akaashi didn’t know this. Neither did Kenma. None of the other Time Operatives could have possibly known about this.</p>
<p>Ikehara might be lying. But Anti-Operative Volunteers tampered with the system. They could have dug out the dark truth behind the Time Traveller Taskforce. They want Akaashi, because he is the one to create the Director - he is part of the Director.</p>
<p>The Taskforce, who rips out an agent's consciousness and installs it into an AI to figure out how to save the future.</p>
<p>Akaashi doesn’t want to believe it.</p>
<p>“Of course, you're just the starting point – you were not enough to achieve the results they wanted.” Ikehara becomes the storyteller of a horror novel, making the images come to life. “So you aren't the only one programmed into that machine – they put other Time Operatives into it too. Only the best of the best, of course. And they only need the necessary parts.</p>
<p>“How’s it possible?” Hinata squawks. “Who’d willingly give their lives up like that?”</p>
<p>Ikehara grins. “When you die, where do you think your consciousness goes?”</p>
<p>Akaashi thinks he’s going to throw up.</p>
<p>Everything else making him human, everything he’s ever wanted to be, wasn’t important. All of it is a hindrance to the mission, and it’ll be deleted so all that’s left of Time Operative 4028 are the parts the Taskforce built into him. He’s a machine. He’s always been a machine.</p>
<p>“This is why we want you to join us, Strategist,” Ikehara extends a hand to him, “we promise not to force you into a cruel fate. Join us, and you get to live.”</p>
<p>For the first time in his life, Akaashi doesn't know what to do.</p>
<p>“Of course, we need more.” Ikehara adds as an afterthought. “We want to expose Mortos to the whole world – so chemical warfare depletes it. It's a finite resource, you see, and we want to eradicate it by the time the Taskforce invents time travel. No other substance in the world exists as strong as Mortos – nothing else is powerful enough to run the Taskforce AI, or send you back to the 21<sup>st</sup>.”</p>
<p>Ikehara comes close enough to grab Akaashi’s chin, tilting it up to leer at the blank horror on his visage. “Expose Mortos, and you will never have your mind taken away.”</p>
<p>Time trickles at a snail’s pace. He inhales smoke and ash, and swelters in the heat of summer and war. Akaashi can't move a muscle.</p>
<p>He opens his mouth with no idea what will come out of it, but before he can utter a word, something tears past him, grazing Ikehara's cheekbone, causing him to stumble back on instinct.</p>
<p>Tendou puts himself between Ikehara and Akaashi, gun poised. Kenma touches Akaashi's arm but he can’t identify anything, too shaken to register his surroundings. There’s rage on Kenma’s face he’s never seen before.</p>
<p>“Like fucking hell are you going to take him!” Kenma rebukes, finger on the trigger. “And like fucking hell am I ever going to let that happen to Keiji!”</p>
<p>He shoots Ikehara with terrifying accuracy, puncturing his thigh. Shock is the sole reason he doesn’t scream, but he falls on his ass and the Time Operatives charge forward.</p>
<p>Tendou aims for the kill, but the glint of a sniper catches Akaashi's eye in the distance and he comes out of his stunned state, moving on instinct to drag Tendou on the ground as a bullets hit where they stood.</p>
<p>And all hell breaks loose.</p>
<p>They run to hide behind rubble, skidding on their knees until blood makes their trousers stick to torn skin. Shards of wood and broken wall explode as more shots aim for their heads. Anti-Operative Volunteers rise from the ashes, in swarms. Dozens of them.</p>
<p>Ikehara chortles. "How unfortunate, Strategist! And here I assumed you were different from the rest! That you'd save your little boyfriend!"</p>
<p>Akaashi doesn't rise to the bait. The world is tunnel-visioning, fading to black. He can't breathe because when he tries, he's sucking ash into his lungs, and his brain is running on overdrive right now, and it's all <em>too much</em>-</p>
<p>Iwaizumi and Kenma shirk back and convene with Akaashi and Tendou. A tuft of orange hair runs past with scary-quick reflexes. Hinata jumps behind a burned couch, whilst Lev retreats behind a tree with Yamaguchi, blind-firing over low-hung branches.</p>
<p>Kenma yanks Akaashi so hard he almost eats it into the rubble. “Pull yourself together, Keiji, we need to find better cover!”</p>
<p>Akaashi escapes the impending doom drowning him. Tendou blind-fires as they evade and dodge their attackers until they duck through the exit gates.</p>
<p>“Got any explosives on you?” Kenma pats his gear and hoping to find something. “I’m all out.”</p>
<p>“Unfortunately, I don’t,” Tendou heaves, voice rough from exertion, “I was under the impression we were stopping an explosion, not causing another one.”</p>
<p>Akaashi peeks out to scan the area, seeing dozens of Anti-Operatives surrounding them, and curses. “We need better cover, somewhere to escape.”</p>
<p>“The gym?”</p>
<p>“No, the students are there – we can’t risk them getting caught in the attack.” The field is void of any proper cover, it’s either the gym, or the burning accommodation from where the Volunteers have spilled out of.</p>
<p>Kenma follows his gaze, and his amber eyes glow in revelation. “We go back into the fire – keep all the damage to one area, use it as cover.”</p>
<p>Akaashi nods. They wait a beat, until the bullets stop, and charge into the battlefield, covered by flames and broken walls and ruined furniture. Kenma sticks to Akaashi's back, covering their blind spots, as they hide in the flames.</p>
<p>A glaring red container catches Akaashi’s attention near where the gardens used to be. It’s a gas canister, untouched by the flames. He gets an idea.</p>
<p>"This way!" He hauls Kenma with him, who spots the canister and immediately grasps Akaashi’s plan.</p>
<p>Breaking the top off, Akaashi is the catalyst, as he spills the liquid gas all over the ground. They wait for their enemy to approach, and then Kenma, a lover of chaos, blasts the gas.</p>
<p>The flames erupt as high as the boarding house once stood, eating wood and fabric and glass. Some of their attackers get caught and wail in pain, trying to escape. It’s a huge explosion and Akaashi has to get away from it before it takes him and Kenma too.</p>
<p>Someone shouts for a retreat, and the Anti-Operatives obey, following a masked figure with long hair. Their leader, most likely. Beside the leader, a familiar figure guides them out of the line of fire, and Akaashi realises it’s his father.</p>
<p>Akaashi makes to chase after them, until Kenma restrains him. “Keiji, don’t!”</p>
<p>“But they took him - they took Bokuto-san!" He argues, struggling to escape Kenma’s iron-grip. "I can’t let them get away!”</p>
<p>“And they won’t kill him yet!” Kenma retorts, tightening his arms. “His death isn’t for another week, Keiji – we’ll come up with a plan and rescue him.”</p>
<p>What if the Anti-Operatives disobey the law of nature? What if they put a bullet right between Bokuto’s brows the second they deem him useless?</p>
<p>But he doesn’t any other choice.</p>
<p>Tendou and Iwaizumi are already at the doors of the gym, with Hinata bouncing on his heels as he waits for the gym to open. Kenma and Lev contact the emergency services, and Akaashi forces himself not to mediate on Bokuto’s whereabouts as he grabs their weapons to hide behind the gym so no one gets scared or suspicious.</p>
<p>Inside is bright enough to blind him. Blinking the brightness away, Akaashi sees his Fukurodani teammates huddled in a corner or pacing with anxiety. Everyone is coated with grey ash and soot. Their familiar faces bring him reprieve. None of them were burned or seriously injured. But when Akaashi searches for familiar white hair, he doesn’t find it.</p>
<p>And when he spots Kuroo Tetsurou’s eyes tracking them, studying Kenma with that all-knowing contemplation before a mask of disbelief falls over his features. Akaashi recalls the conversation from the other day, how unsettling it was to feel like Kuroo knew everything, to discern that maybe he’s putting the puzzle together.</p>
<p>Kuroo's regards the clothes they don, identical gear and holsters hidden under loosened shirts. The darkness of soot and night won’t be able to cover the similarities from those eerie glowing eyes. Everyone is in a state of panic, unaware of their surroundings, let alone the similarities in Akaashi and Kenma’s clothes. But not Kuroo.</p>
<p>Because like Bokuto, Kuroo’s perception is scary and brilliant. Even if he doesn’t know the exact circumstances, he’s smart enough to sense something isn't right. And he knows these people - Kenma and Akaashi and Hinata and Lev and Yamaguchi - none of them are who they said they were.</p>
<p>This isn’t going to be pretty.</p>
<p>--</p>
<p>Firefighters arrive at the scene, but the boarding house is beyond saving. The owner lost his home, his business and his restaurant, shoved into the gym with his guests by masked strangers, who threatened to shoot anyone who tried to escape. The gym was locked with all of them in it, so the only thing they heard was the sound of gunshots and fire. At least, it's what they told the police officers. A few of them are Time Operatives, and they relay this information to Iwaizumi and Tendou.</p>
<p>Meanwhile, the other Time Operatives run to their friends. Kenma and Lev run to Nekoma, Hinata and Yamaguchi to Karasuno. Akaashi makes his way to Fukurodani.</p>
<p>Bokuto isn't there.</p>
<p>He's the only one missing. Konoha recounts how they were woken by an alarm and the smell of smoke, and immediately left the building. But outside, Bokuto got lost searching for Akaashi, and then masked freaks showed up, and took them into the gym.</p>
<p>When Konoha searched for Bokuto, he wasn't with them in the gym.</p>
<p>Akaashi sits on the steps to the gym with his head in his arms. The blanket Washio offered to him with slips off one shoulder. But it doesn’t matter if he covers himself in one or a hundred blankets, he can’t stop shaking.</p>
<p>The adrenaline stopped coursing through his veins, and all that's left is numbness. He reviews what Ikehara revealed to him, and he’s numb to the core.</p>
<p>He has no idea what to do anymore, with the Anti-Operatives, with the Taskforce. With <em>himself</em>.</p>
<p>Him – Akaashi Keiji; Time Operative 4028 – the creator of <em>the Director?</em> The revelation is so absurd it’s hilarious.</p>
<p>The Director is him, and dozens - hundreds more - Time Operatives. A self, delinked from its core and experiences. Raised and taught to be a machine from the beginning – that’s what a Strategist is. A Time Operative.</p>
<p>This is what the Taskforce has been waiting for. The perfect candidate to become the first part of their superhuman AI.</p>
<p>Is this how they're going to save the world?</p>
<p>Does the Taskforce even <em>know</em> how to save it? Are they so desperate to install more Time Operatives into the Director because they don't have a way to change the future?</p>
<p>Akaashi doesn’t know how to feel. Betrayed? Disgusted? Ashamed?</p>
<p>Has the threat of Protocol ever been real? The obsessive fear etched into every agent's teachings. Does it truly control them, when the Taskforce can pick and choose the exact moment to rip away their consciousness for the Director?</p>
<p>Does that mean Akaashi could’ve saved all those people? The ones they weren't allowed to rescue? That horrible car crash he read and theorised about in the future?</p>
<p>His heart gives a dull thud in his ears, but Akaashi lets his body go limp. This is the exact same sensation as returning from a gruelling job, when he wants nothing more but to <em>forget</em>.</p>
<p>A pair of black boots trails into his line of vision, the quilt wrapped around Kenma almost dragging on the ground. The sun is rising behind him, pale blue morning highlighting the bags under his eyes and the cuts on his cheeks. His hair is a mess of tangles, half-up and half-out of its usual bun.</p>
<p>His expression is vacant and lost, but when he crouches into Akaashi's line of sight, he speaks with resolution. “Keiji."</p>
<p>Kenma says the name, squeezing Akaashi's fingers, dirtied by dust and dry blood.</p>
<p>“You’re Akaashi Keiji.” He states. “I... I wanted to tell you because – what we learned isn’t going to change that.”</p>
<p>Akaashi’s breath stutters.</p>
<p>“You’re <em>you</em>.” Kenma says as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Not what the future tells you, not what the past made you. You are a human, and you can become anyone you want to be.”</p>
<p>Akaashi almost laughs, and cries, and screams all at once. The irony of saying Akaashi is his own person isn’t lost on him. His grip tightens around Kenma’s fingers.</p>
<p>“If your future is to become the Director, fuck that.” Kenma’s head shakes with vehement refusal. “You are not going down that path, and I'm not gonna stand by, letting you become a machine, Keiji. I don’t care what the Taskforce says, I don’t care what’s written in history - Protocol, rules, orders, I don’t care. We can change it – we’re going to change it. The whole fucking world. So we don’t become part of a machine in the future. I promise you.”</p>
<p>He figured he would never hear those kinds of words, from anyone.</p>
<p>And yet, Kenma, his closest friend, is willing to defy the organisation that brought them up.</p>
<p>So perhaps, Akaashi ponders, they might be able to do it.</p>
<p>He rests his head on Kenma shoulder, relieving the weight off his back, and murmurs one thing. “Thank you, Kenma.”</p>
<p>Iwaizumi and Tendou are still speaking with the Time Operatives in the police, separated from the group. Hinata dozes against Kageyama's side, who is gently combing through his tangled. Yamaguchi is with the tall blonde, Tsukishima Kei, who's bandaging the burns on his fingers with a glare that has no real intensity behind it. Nekoma's libero, Yaku, is with Lev, refusing to let Lev out of his sight.</p>
<p>(Kenma told him Lev took a liking to Yaku because he’s so short. "Lev used to be the same height as Yaku, apparently. He likes making jabs about his height because he thinks it’s funny now.")</p>
<p>Bokuto is missing. Time Operatives in the police came up with an excuse, about Bokuto escaping and calling the fire department. But that excuse will prevail for so long until someone grows suspicious. Lies always come back and bite your ass.</p>
<p>On the topic of suspicious people. Akaashi inspects the field. Where did Kuroo go?</p>
<p>"I'm guessing you two are close for more reasons than just volleyball, aren't you?" Akaashi's ass nearly slips off the step, startled by Kuroo leaning against the building with an enigmatic expression.</p>
<p>Kenma stiffens. They're so close, Akaashi can pick up on the way his pulse races with nerves. "Kuroo-"</p>
<p>"I thought it was weird how fast you became such good friends." Kuroo muses, crossing his arms (whether it’s to soothe himself, or close himself off, Akaashi can’t tell). "You’ve known each other before the training camp, didn't you?"</p>
<p>The bout of silence passing between them is stifling. Kenma shifts to look at Kuroo, and answers. "Yes."</p>
<p>His honesty doesn't evoke a reaction from him. Kuroo doesn't appear betrayed or scared or shocked. He's completely withdrawn. "Wanna tell me how?"</p>
<p>Kenma shakes his head.</p>
<p>Kuroo doesn't falter. "Is it something dangerous?"</p>
<p>Kenma doesn't say anything, which is enough of an answer in itself.</p>
<p>"So these freakshows coming up on us wasn't some indiscriminate attack either."</p>
<p>Kenma affirms his suspicion.</p>
<p>"But you won't tell me, will you?"</p>
<p>"I can't. It's too dangerous for you to know."</p>
<p>With a long sigh, Kuroo directs his scrutiny on Kenma, hoping to unveil his secrets on the dusty pavement. "If that's what you think – fine, don't tell me anything. But just so you know, I've been able to tell something was off about you for a while now, Kenma."</p>
<p>Kenma’s nails dig into the quilt fabric around his thighs.</p>
<p>"I don't know why, but you're different - to be honest, I don't particularly care why you’ve changed, or if you’ve gotten yourself involved in something you shouldn’t have." Kuroo admits, rising to his full height as he pushes himself off the wall. "I'll always love you no matter what - and I hope one day you'll be able to share these secrets with me. Even if they're bad, even if they're ugly - I'll bear the burden with you."</p>
<p>Kuroo walks away, drifting to the Nekoma group, without turning back. And when he's gone, Kenma curls into himself, and his blanketed back quivers.</p>
<p>"He... Kuroo said he-" Kenma's voice cracks when he tries to say it.</p>
<p>Kuroo said he loves Kenma. He said he'd stay by Kenma's side no matter what, no matter the secret. Everyone says so until they find out what they’re actually hiding. Kuroo wouldn't be able to handle the truth - no one could.</p>
<p>But Akaashi stays by Kenma's side instead, letting him rest on his lap, and crumble. The ones to bear this burden shall be the Time Operatives, and nobody else. So they must to be there for each other, when nobody else can understand what they’re going through.</p>
<p>--</p>
<p>The students are to return home from training camp. The boarding house is ruined, the owner distraught from the loss of his establishment. They were all shaken up from the events with the mysterious masked shooters.</p>
<p>The Sendai Time Operatives chose to remain in Tokyo though, under the guise of having family in the city to stay with instead. So Hinata and Yamaguchi let the buses leave for home without them, and go straight to the Mech. Operative station.</p>
<p>Solemn expressions and worried half-glances greet them at the library base. It’s a given for the truth to travel fast amongst Time Operatives, who stare at Akaashi in awe of what he is predicted to become. Akaashi ignores the stares, and enters the conference room used by Strategists. He locks himself inside and begins.</p>
<p>Akaashi plans, outlines, visualises each possible rescue scenario for Bokuto. One without any major casualties. He loses himself in work, forgoes sleep and food, wishing it was enough to forget the realities of the Taskforce. Forget the truth of their organisation. The fact that Time Operatives are their puppets and toys to play with and discard when they get bored.</p>
<p>Engineers pry for task reports and documents, but he ignores them without giving a shit about the consequences. It's odd, a little sickening, to follow orders as usual, when he's aware behind each one is an AI more human than machine. A conscience system dissected to its basic components, just how the Taskforce wanted them to be – humans who cared not for anyone in particular, but obeyed the orders from the command. The Taskforce rules, strategies, intellect, all in one place to rule the rest.</p>
<p>The Director's orders brought them where they are now, approaching an optimum future. They've saved countless lives thanks to it, and abandoned twice as many.</p>
<p>A week passes, and Akaashi is losing it with worry. He doesn't know what's happening to Bokuto in that hidden facility, but there's no way to infiltrate without risking Bokuto getting killed. Everything; every procedure, every endgame – none of it is going to succeed.</p>
<p>Not even agreeing to join the Anti-Operative Volunteers guarantees Bokuto’s survival.</p>
<p>On his third day without solid sleep, they receive instructions from the Director, and suddenly, Akaashi conjures up a plan. A stupid, reckless, ridiculous plan that won't guarantee his own survival, but it might Bokuto's.</p>
<p>All Time Operatives in the city get put on the Top Priority mission, and they scramble to prepare. Akaashi is in the artillery room, shuffling through munitions as if perusing in a shop, when Kenma slips in. “Thought you’d be here.”</p>
<p>Akaashi doesn’t look up, fingers skimming across metal. “Where else could I possibly go?”</p>
<p>“And you’ve been avoiding me.” He adds. “Not just me – you’ve been avoiding all of us, locked up in that stuffy conference room on your own.”</p>
<p>Akaashi sighs. “Yeah, but how could I-”</p>
<p>
  <em>How could I confront you when I am the reason so many people die? When I am the cause of so many Time Operative’s nightmares?</em>
</p>
<p>“If it’s about the whole Director thing, nobody’s angry about it – shocked? Yeah. But not because of you.” Kenma supplies. “Nobody's upset with you, or hates you, or whatever your mind is telling you.”</p>
<p>Akaashi grips an empty magazine.</p>
<p>“None of this is your fault.” A hand settles on his shoulder, turning him so they face each other; Time Operative to Time Operative. Strategist to Hacker. Friend to friend. “It’s all the Taskforce’s doing – the higher-ups. You were just meant to be their scapegoat.”</p>
<p>Time Operatives are little pieces in a much bigger game than they were told.</p>
<p>“But I told you after our mission, you are <em>you</em>.” Kenma repeats. “You are Akaashi Keiji, and no one else. You’re not the Director, you’re not a tool. You are my friend, and I am not going to let anything happen to you, okay? I love you too much to let you go.”</p>
<p>Akaashi’s cheeks become hot. “You say that too much.”</p>
<p>“What? I love you?” Kenma huffs a laugh. “I don’t think I say it enough, you need to hear it more.”</p>
<p>
  <em>And you deserve it more than I do.</em>
</p>
<p>“The 21<sup>st</sup> century has a stupid definition of love – the future has an even stupider one.” Kenma grumbles, poking the tip of an army knife. "It isn't like the media says, there aren't any set rules in real life. The world is convinced there's only one type of love is important, but that's dumb."</p>
<p>Because Kenma loves Keiji, not romantically, but whenever they're together, they're strong. They make a good team. Akaashi is a catalyst. Kenma is chaos. They work together, and they help each other when one of them falls. Shouldn't that type of love be important too?</p>
<p>And Kenma loves Kuroo too, even if he can't say it. Kuroo is safety, the one telling him it's okay to be weak, and rest. That’s a different type of love too.</p>
<p>"It's different for each person, so I don't get why there's this need to follow these made-up rules about what it can and can't be defined as." Kenma grins, twirling a taser in his fingers. "Love doesn't need to be forced into a box to fit a singular image."</p>
<p>Akaashi wonders how his life would’ve turned out if he wasn’t chosen for the Taskforce. He doubts he’d be alive, but it makes him wonder; would he have met people like Kenma, like Bokuto, if he stayed? He doubts anyone exists, or ever will exist, to be like them ever again. In their own ways, they are his family now.</p>
<p>“I love you too, Kenma.” He says, and he means it from the lone depths of his soul.</p>
<p>Kenma squeezes his hand, and that’s enough to make Keiji feel like he’s invincible.</p>
<p>--</p>
<p>
  <strong>[Protocol 0: This is a Top Priority emergency. All Time Operatives must do whatever it takes to resolve the current emergency. Eliminate the Anti-Operative Volunteers at all costs. Do not expose Mortos to the 21<sup>st</sup> century.]</strong>
</p>
<p>He discussed the plan with Kenma, the stupid, reckless, suicidal plan – and as expected, Kenma hated it. But he agreed. Because it was the only way to save not just Bokuto, but the other Time Operatives too. No one else is going to become a pawn for the Taskforce. Akaashi refuses to let it happen. They can all fuck right off to hell.</p>
<p>One day later, a few hours before Bokuto’s death is predicted to occur, the agents have gathered in the conference room. Or at least, the one’s who made it in – this damn room is way too small to hold all of them.</p>
<p>“We know their whereabouts.” Akaashi points at the board projecting coordinates to the hideaway. “The plan is to record the Anti-Operative Volunteers using these burner phones-" Lev displays one up as an example, "- which are able to break through the barricades they put on our systems. And once they're caught on camera, their consciousness can be forcibly overridden."</p>
<p>“Try to keep the body count to a minimum." Iwaizumi's voice booms with power from where he's leaning against the wall, drawing the room's attention. "But if you need to shoot, then do it.”</p>
<p>When Akaashi adjourns the meeting, the agents set off to prepare. Healers equip their vehicles with first-aid kits, and Warriors distribute vests and protective gear to their teammates. The agents split into smaller units, tasked to take on different sections of the location. Uchimura Rei, Yamaguchi, Kenma, and Akaashi were all put into a group together - a fair division of power.</p>
<p>More than a dozen vans prepare to drive to the warehouse acting as a secret storage for tonnes and tonnes of Mortos. This is where Bokuto is held hostage, and where the Anti-Operative Volunteers will be.</p>
<p>At least, Akaashi hopes so.</p>
<p>His hopes are heeded, because once the warehouse comes in sight, alarms blare, and Anti-Operatives come to defend their territory. Sharpshooters appear on the rooftop, and shoot out their tyres. Akaashi curses when their van is hit, swerving and nearly toppling on its side as he struggles to bring it to a stop.</p>
<p>Uchimura clambers out of the van to act as defence for the team, knocking the snipers off the roof. She misses, and they take cover behind the broken vehicle when the projectiles won't stop.</p>
<p>They reached the car park zone of the warehouse, but there’s too much distance between here and the entrance. Anyone who tries to storm in will get killed. The Time Operatives cling to their cover.</p>
<p>Akaashi spots Lev's silvery hair pop out of hiding. His heart nearly jumps out of his throat, instincts prepared to run and save Lev’s dumbass, until- "You'll want to cover your ears for this one!"</p>
<p>And he throws what seems to be a bomb, aiming straight for the rooftop. As if in slow-motion, Akaashi arches his back to gawk as it sails overhead, brows furrowing and then releasing. He manages to shut his eyes and covers his ears right as the flashbang explodes but it still leaves him dizzy and deafened.</p>
<p>The agents use the chance to storm through the doors. Akaashi has his burner phone out, pointing it at any rebel who gets in his way. The reaction is instant, and Akaashi doesn't stay to watch the way they crumple to the floor in agony. Their consciousness is getting ripped from their body.</p>
<p>The rebels fall, whilst some are quick to understand what’s going on, and run to hide in the shadows. The lights switch off, leaving the facility in darkness, save for the flashing red lights of the alarm, offering moments to analyse the surroundings. Akaashi has mere seconds to take it in, and lose himself in the chaos.</p>
<p>He uses the darkness to his advantage, breaking away from the Time Operatives. His stomach coils with guilt as he abandons the group, but it's his one chance to save Bokuto. Kenma is aware he’s doing this anyway.</p>
<p>The emergency staircase is lit up by generator lights, and Akaashi goes underground. Pushing the doors open, Akaashi scans the offices, bathrooms, and closets without running into anyone. According to the coordinates of his death, Bokuto is here somewhere.</p>
<p>His death is less than a few minutes away. He <em>has </em>to be here.</p>
<p>He has to be alive.</p>
<p>At the end of the long-winding hallway is a boiler room. Akaashi kicks the door, which bursts open with ease. It had been unlocked.</p>
<p>And he sees him. Bokuto, handcuffed to a metal pipe, and haggard. He appears uninjured, they didn't torture him for information - at least not physically. But when Bokuto shifts to meet Akaashi’s gaze, honey-gold eyes dimming, a wall goes up behind them.</p>
<p>That confirms it. The Anti-Operatives told Bokuto everything, about time travel, the Taskforce, the agents.</p>
<p>Bokuto knows the real Akaashi Keiji is dead.</p>
<p>It’s been too long, and a 24-hour memory-wiping drug isn't going to fix it this time round. Akaashi will have to live with the consequences.</p>
<p>Something shifts behind the shadows of the boilers, and Akaashi Yuuko appears, arms crossed like she was waiting for his arrival.</p>
<p>“I’m surprised it took you this long to show.” She drawls. A handgun is in her belt, and a knife strapped to her thigh. “Didn’t think you’d leave your little friend alone for this long-”</p>
<p>“Whatever you want,” Akaashi cuts her off, “whatever you want, you can do to me. But please, keep him out of this.”</p>
<p>Yuuko scoffs with a roll of her eyes. She raises her chin, standing at her full height, and takes the handgun out. The safety clicks off. “You are so <em>weak</em> when it comes to this boy. Are you so eager to kill yourself if it means sparing his life? <em>His?</em>”</p>
<p>Akaashi pulls out his own weapon, and Yuuko prepares to incapacitate him, but when Akaashi raises it up, he rests the pistol against the side of his own head.</p>
<p>“Akaashi, what are you doing?” Bokuto croaks, voice rough and dry, enough to send a spike through Akaashi’s heart, pounding in his ribs so hard it hurts.</p>
<p>“Are you that much of an idiot?” Yuuko taunts in an attempt to keep her composure. Her stance makes it clear she's nervous, never having anticipated such a move.</p>
<p>“You asked if I was willing to kill myself for him.” Akaashi simply says. “And I am.”</p>
<p>“Akaashi, don’t do it, please.” Bokuto cries, tears springing to his eyes.</p>
<p>Hearing Bokuto beg and plead like this fucking <em>hurts</em>. He knows the truth now, about time travelling, and the real Akaashi Keiji, but he still begs him not to die. Blinking away the tears surging up, Akaashi watches Yuuko.</p>
<p>“If you kill him, then I will not hesitate to shoot myself in the head.” He states. “If <em>anyone</em> tries to override his consciousness,” he zeros in on the cameras in the corners, aware of the future listening in, “then I will shoot myself. And I’m sure you know, m<em>other</em>, an agent’s mind can't be retrieved if my brains are blown out on the walls.”</p>
<p>(Or at least, Kenma rifled through enough Time Operative suicides and deaths for Akaashi to bank the plan on this tidbit of information.)</p>
<p>Yuuko doesn’t move. Bokuto tugs on the restrains desperately until his wrists bleed. He’s begging Akaashi not to do it. Akaashi refuses to look his way.</p>
<p>“Are we clear?” He asks Yuuko. “Let him go, and we’ll all get out of this alive.”</p>
<p>Yuuko is hesitant, mulling over the consequences of obeying, until she nods in resignation and lowers the gun, taking the keys from her pocket to unlock the bounds. But before she reaches Bokuto, footsteps approach from behind, and Akaashi twists around just as a bullet pierces through the body armour on his shoulder.</p>
<p>The gun in his grip falls when the shock of pain sears through him, all the way to his fingertips. Sharp horror stabs his gut when he sees the Warrior standing over him.</p>
<p>Uchimura Rei comes close enough to kick Akaashi’s weapon out of his reach, and points her own at Bokuto. The gun pellets on the floor look familiar, and it’s with sickening recognition hitting Akaashi’s gut as to why – these are armour-piercing bullets from the future.</p>
<p>“Move and I kill him.” She growls, hovering over his kneeling form. "How about we stop this little game and you join the Volunteers, 4028?"</p>
<p>Akaashi gives a weak shake of his head, more out of disbelief than refusal. "Uchimura-san? What are you doing?"</p>
<p>Uchimura rolls her eyes and points a thumb at herself. "My Volunteers aren't the best when it comes to getting what they want. I got tired of waiting at the finish line, and decided to make you hurry up and join me."</p>
<p>In that moment, it clicks. "You - <em>you're</em> the leader of the Anti-Operatives?"</p>
<p>"Yes, and I'm running out of time and patience to keep waiting for you to make up your mind." The trigger clicks.</p>
<p>“No please!” Akaashi pleads, trying to come between her and Bokuto, but Yuuko jabs an elbow into his back and slams him to the ground. “Please don’t, I’ll-”</p>
<p>“Either you join us, or he gets shot before his consciousness can even be overridden.” Uchimura counters, baring her teeth in aggression. “You ought to know better than this, Strategist! Weren’t you the one preaching about the mission being the priority? You know you can’t live like them, you can’t love like them - you won’t ever belong with them!”</p>
<p>“Akaashi, don’t do it!” Bokuto yells. “Don’t agree to this, don’t risk your life for mine!”</p>
<p>Akaashi struggles to escape Yuuko's vice-grip, but she stomps on his wound, and the searing pain has him whimpering. There’s no point in resisting. There was never any point in resisting. Even if he agreed to what Uchimura wanted, Bokuto would die. Akaashi failed.</p>
<p>His forehead thumps the hard ground in defeat, cold and wet with his blood. He looks at Bokuto, like he can see the timer ticking counting down to his death.</p>
<p>If he knew it all then – if Akaashi knew everything that would transpire in the 21<sup>st</sup> century, would he still go? Would he go there and do everything all over again? Would it be worth it if this is the final outcome? If he knew that <em>this</em> is the optimum course for the future? He isn’t so sure anymore.</p>
<p>Akaashi isn't strong enough to save him, he can’t do anything but watch through a tear-blurred vision, muttering <em>I'm sorry Bokuto-san, I'm so sorry</em> before his fate is sealed.</p>
<p>Uchimura's finger presses on the trigger, and the doors burst open. Kenma barges into the room, and clobbers Uchimura with the handle of his gun without hesitation. Hinata and Iwaizumi follow with their burner phones. Before they can override their consciousness, Yuuko destroys the emergency-generator lights and they’re bathed in darkness.</p>
<p>Akaashi takes advantage of the distraction to crawl away from Yuuko and slams his leg back, knocking her to the ground. Tendou slips in with Yamaguchi and Lev, branding flashlights to light up the room. Kenma must have gathered them all together to come here.</p>
<p>Hinata, and Yamaguchi, and Lev, Iwaizumi, and Tendou. They aren’t afraid to go against the Director’s orders, they’re willing to risk themselves for something greater than the mission. For Akaashi’s greed.</p>
<p>Yuuko struggles to fend off Akaashi’s attacks, bashing his injury to weaken his grip and escape.</p>
<p>“Uchimura-san!” Someone calls from the doorway, and Akaashi glimpses at Akaashi Keita, beckoning the Anti-Operative leader forward, right as Yuuko slices his collarbone with her knife. “We need to hurry! The building is going to explode!”</p>
<p>Uchimura is quick to run, and Iwaizumi chases after her with Tendou. But she was labelled one of their strongest Warriors for a reason, and her speed is unmatched.</p>
<p>Back in the boiler room, Kenma brands the flashlight from his phone on Yuuko, and kicks the knife away with flexibility Akaashi didn’t know Kenma possessed. Yamaguchi shines the camera of the burner phone right on her face, clear and bright with terror, right as the Taskforce system registers her identity.</p>
<p>Yuuko grunts in pain, shuffling away to clutch at her hair, breathing heavy as pain from having her consciousness ripped from her brain becomes excruciating. In the mixture of adrenaline and fear and terror burning through Akaashi's chest, his sternum fills with grief and sadness. His mother dies in front of him, a horrible corrupt lawyer who cared about her career more than her kid, and he feels sad. When her screams turn hoarse, Akaashi turns away. "I'm sorry, mother."</p>
<p>Bokuto is watching the process of death, morbid fascination and curiosity preventing him from turning away, until he notices Akaashi, and clambers to reach him, chains jangling around bloody wrists. Akaashi slinks towards the other, legs wobbling so much they threaten to collapse under him.</p>
<p>“Bokuto-san.” He rasps, voice rough as sandpaper. “Bokuto-san… <em>Koutarou</em>…”</p>
<p>The cuffs keep Bokuto in place. Akaashi fumbles to find the keys, and unlocks the chains. Bokuto doesn’t waste a moment, scrambling into his arms with a sob.</p>
<p>Akaashi isn’t sure what to feel with Bokuto in his arms. He’s happy, sad, elated, and terrified. Bokuto’s body is trembling, but it’s warm, with a familiar scent of linen still lingering under the smell of panic and blood. Akaashi holds him there, clutches onto his clothes afraid Bokuto will disappear if he lets go. His injury soaks Bokuto's shirt with blood.</p>
<p>They just want to touch each other, to prove they’re both alive. Bokuto is whispering Akaashi’s name into the collar of his shirt, soaking it with his tears. And Akaashi whispers Bokuto’s name. He whispers it again and again, until his voice cracks and wobbles, hoping a name alone is enough to convey what he can’t say out loud: <em>you're safe, you're safe now, I won't let anything hurt you ever again.</em></p>
<p>
  <em>(I love you, I love you, I love you.)</em>
</p>
<p>Yuuko is replaced by another Time Operative and Kenma is explaining the situation to her. She's quick to pick up on what to do, escaping the room with Yamaguchi and Lev, just as Iwaizumi returns.</p>
<p>“We gotta go. Right now.” Iwaizumi hauls Akaashi and Bokuto up with abnormal strength. “This place is a ticking time-bomb. Uchimura is gonna blow up all the Mortos containers. We have to get the fuck away."</p>
<p>"No, we have to stop the explosion." Akaashi counters. "This is Mortos we're talking about, it’ll blow up half the country at this rate."</p>
<p>Iwaizumi wants to argue, but he knows it's the truth. He curses, running a hand through his hair. "Fine. Fine, we go, and Kenma, you focus on stopping this explosion from killing us all."</p>
<p>Akaashi doesn't let go of Bokuto as they run, climbing the stairs so fast their lungs burn, and rush to the main area. Kenma singles out the control panel, and Iwaizumi follows to protect him. Akaashi shoves himself and Bokuto into a corner for cover, standing in front of him as protection, Bokuto gripping the back of his vest, and quivering.</p>
<p>Projectiles rain from above, where Anti-Operatives are clamouring to stop them. Peeking out of cover, he sees Kenma at the control panel. Iwaizumi covers him, letting loose on the rebels until they’re forced to retreat.</p>
<p>From above, Uchimura Rei points a gun to Kenma’s back. Akaashi jumps out of hiding, Bokuto failing to pull him back.</p>
<p>"You're not getting away with this, Hacker!" She shrieks, and Akaashi doesn’t stagger.</p>
<p>He shoots Uchimura with terrifying accuracy, right in the middle of her palm. Her weapon falls, and her allies run in front of her as protection. Akaashi pulls Bokuto to take cover behind an overturned table, but it's flimsy and weak, and the lead bullets pierce through it like paper. He takes them to hide by a crate, waiting until the bullets cease to run back the way they came from. At least, Akaashi has to get Bokuto out of here.</p>
<p>"You've been a real fucking pain in my ass, 4028!" Uchimura uses his identification number, voice piercing over the whizz of gunshots. "I've been patient with you all this time, giving you choices, letting you bring your friends and save your boyfriend. But you throw it all right back in my face!"</p>
<p>Akaashi wheezes, and tries to reign in his emotions. Faint beeps tick where Kenma turns dials, lowering container temperatures to below freezing.</p>
<p>“It’s done, it’s done!” Kenma shouts, rising to his feet. “I can't stop the timer - we have to go, now! Go, go, go!”</p>
<p>Akaashi veers around, and sees Uchimura at the emergency exit, shooting back at them before escaping. Akaashi Keita is holding the door open for her. She's retreating, and so are the other Volunteers. Those bastards, talking about ending the world like they don't care about dying, yet they flee when from death’s embrace. They have four minutes left to escape.</p>
<p>“Kenma!” Tendou shouts. Akaashi turns around.</p>
<p>Blood. Blood is seeping through Kenma’s jacket. Time seems to stop, and nobody moves.</p>
<p>Kenma crumples to the ground, and Akaashi catches the matte shine of a sniper from the corner of his eye. Through the shattered window, stood on a crate, Ikehara cackles with bright sadism.</p>
<p>When Kenma doesn't move, Akaashi loses it. “Kenma!”</p>
<p>Bokuto stops him before he can jump to his death in their line of fire, toppling to the floor. He covers Akaashi’s body when bullets graze the tops of their heads. Bokuto isn’t wearing a bulletproof vest, he has no weapons, no protection. He has to get him out now, but Kenma is down, and he isn’t moving, <em>is he breathing, oh fuck please be alive</em>-</p>
<p>Bokuto drags him into hiding, palms on either side of his jaw so Akaashi has no choice but to stare into Bokuto’s eyes. They’re glowing gold and glittering, wild with panic and running on fight or flight instinct. "Akaashi, <em>focus!</em> We gotta get out of here!"</p>
<p>"We can't just <em>leave him</em>!" There's no way to escape, they won't make it out on time.</p>
<p>Iwaizumi has dragged Kenma's body to hide behind a crate where they can do nothing but wait to explode. Akaashi fights to escape Bokuto's grip. If they're going to die, then Akaashi wants to take his final kill out before their blessed explosion does.</p>
<p>Ikehara focuses on him with a manic grin, and there's no fear on his face when Akaashi takes the shot. He isn't scared of death. He welcomes it. He <em>wants </em>Akaashi to kill him.  Because the one thing Ikehara Jirou ever wanted to achieve was chaos, and he succeeded the moment he targeted Kenma. He wanted to make monsters out of them all.</p>
<p>Akaashi pulls the trigger, and the shot blasts through the room with a deafening sound that leaves his ears ringing. Ikehara falls.</p>
<p>He doesn’t gain any satisfaction from his death. It hasn’t changed anything. Kenma is on death’s door. Gun cartridges rain down on them. The Anti-Operative Volunteers retreat.  Ikehara’s death changed nothing in the grand scheme of things, but much like a butterfly mission, Akaashi’s actions are going to come back and bite his ass.</p>
<p>"Cover your ears!" Someone shouts from behind them, and Akaashi catches sight of Lev with flashbangs hanging around his waist.</p>
<p>He tosses one, then a second, and a third, and Bokuto instinctively pulls Akaashi into his chest to protect him. Akaashi’s ears ring, vision dotted with static-y white, and all the screams fade into the background.</p>
<p>Hinata appears from behind Lev, and rushes in to take the rebels out one by one, until they've fallen to the ground or escaped.  Iwaizumi jumps up from behind the crate, Kenma in his arms, crying out in pain. Iwaizumi apologises profusely. “I’m sorry, please bear with me for a little bit.”</p>
<p>They run like their lives depend on it. One van remains undamaged outside, hidden behind the facility gates. Yuuko is at the wheel.</p>
<p>They have seconds before the warehouse explodes.</p>
<p>Yamaguchi and Hinata yank open the back for Iwaizumi to get in with Kenma, and Bokuto clambers in after, tugging Akaashi inside. But his ears catch the whizz of a bullet, and shoves Bokuto away just as it bypasses where he was a second ago.</p>
<p>Uchimura Rei stands in the parking zone with a smile to match the devil’s right as he fell into hell. She’s accepted her fate. The Anti-Operatives have lost, but she's going to make sure to take as many of her enemies with her.</p>
<p>"If you leave, I'll expose Mortos to the world!" She threatens, but Akaashi doesn't fall for it.</p>
<p>"You don't have to worry about any of that." Akaashi reassures her with a grin.</p>
<p>Taking out his smartphone, Akaashi swipes to unlock it, and holds it in the air. On the screen, articles and news reports flood the web about the newly-discovered substance called Mortos, highly volatile and devastating. The final part to his and Kenma’s plan – to expose Mortos.</p>
<p>Because if Mortos is exposed, the connection between the rebels and the future will be broken.</p>
<p>Uchimura sighs, and her shoulders quake with amusement. "So after all this fighting and bloodshed, you decide to join us after all, 4028."</p>
<p>"I didn't join anyone." Akaashi retorts. "This was my own game, where you were never a player."</p>
<p>Bokuto hauls him into the van, and they take off, Hinata almost falling out before he closes the back.</p>
<p>As they leave the premise, the ground shakes. It’s similar to an earthquake, and Yuuko swerves on the road in an attempt to drive as far away as possible. A plume of smoke rises into the sky, Uchimura standing in the midst of it, before she’s swallowed up by smoke and fire.</p>
<p>Kenma lies on the floor, and Yamaguchi pushes through to check his wound. He curses. Blood soaks his clothes, his torso, the floor. Everywhere.</p>
<p>"That's not just blood, it's bile too." Yamaguchi grimaces. "His liver's been hit - I don't - I don't have the equipment to save him here. I can’t remove the bullet without killing him."</p>
<p>"Kenma- Kenma, stay with us." Akaashi hisses. "Don't you dare die like this."</p>
<p>Kenma doesn’t respond. Yamaguchi does what he can, tearing at cloth to press on the wound in hopes of stopping the bleeding. They need to get to a Mech. Operative station where he can get proper treatment.</p>
<p>Bokuto is at Akaashi's side, alive and whole, and he doesn't let go of his hand the entire time.</p>
<p>The mission was a success; the city is safe, Uchimura Rei, the leader of the Anti-Operative Volunteers is dead.  But Mortos was exposed, and they've lost contact with the future for good.</p>
<p>They may have won the battle - but it came at the price of <em>everything</em>.</p>
<p>--</p>
<p>Chaos. Nothing but chaos. The base is full of wounded agents. Some didn’t make it out before the building exploded. They’ll need to do a manual count – the Engineers aren’t responding to their calls – they <em>can’t</em>.</p>
<p>Akaashi and Bokuto still hold on to each other = as they push through the mayhem. Yamaguchi took Kenma to med bay to perform emergency surgery. Lev and Yuuko get taken to the Hacker's room, striving to configure locations for any escaped Anti-Operatives. Iwaizumi and Tendou are on guard duty around the library. The probability of a surprise attack is low, but no one is going to risk it. Not when they’re so vulnerable.</p>
<p>They no longer have help from the future. They can't communicate with them. The Director is gone. The Taskforce is gone.</p>
<p>"Your arm." Bokuto points to the injury he forgot about. "You need to get it checked."</p>
<p>Akaashi shakes his head. "We’ve got too many injured, I doubt they'll have any place for me. My injury isn't life threatening."</p>
<p>"There's a fucking bullet in your arm!" The exclamation catches Akaashi off-guard. Bokuto is glaring at him with a mixture of fury and fright and sadness. "You need to get it removed, because if you don't, you'll end up with permanent damage."</p>
<p>Akaashi falters, shaken by Bokuto's agitated voice, brimming with frustration. He's never seen this hidden anger before. Akaashi swallows the lump in his throat and nods, staggering to the med bay. As expected, it's overcrowded, but they come across a newly-arrived Healer who’s able to take the bullet out and stitch up his arm.</p>
<p>Bokuto doesn't throw up only because his stomach is empty, but he does turn very, very green, looking away the entire time.</p>
<p>He never let’s go of Akaashi's hand.</p>
<p>Coming out of med bay, the damage has gotten worse. More injured agents arrive, and their Healers are outnumbered. The entire Mech. Operative station demands Akaashi's attention, asking about the Taskforce and Mortos. He tries to keep Bokuto by his side, but he gets dragged away to a meeting, and he loses Bokuto in the sheer turmoil of the masses.</p>
<p>The Strategists meet in the conference room to discuss the mission aftermath. Mortos is exposed. News channel through the whole world talk about it. This volatile substance strong enough to power megawatts of electricity. The dark web has already begun discussing details about benefits in warfare and crime.</p>
<p>But Akaashi doesn't regret his decision to expose Mortos. Not one bit.</p>
<p>And it isn't like his consciousness will get overridden either. No one’s will.</p>
<p>The Time Traveller Taskforce of Special Operatives doesn’t exist anymore.</p>
<p>But they've abandoned the future. They don't know what to do anymore. No Director is guiding them towards the optimum path. And that has Akaashi drowning in guilt.</p>
<p>He's not given a chance to hatch up a counterattack though, because their meeting gets interrupted with a call to help in med bay. His basic Healer knowledge, and what he learned in university, is of some use and he assists in any way he can. Whether it be antiseptic, or new scalpel, or sanitiser for their equipment, Akaashi provides it. He bandages minor injuries for some agents, and checks for signs of a concussion for others.</p>
<p>He slaves away into the dead of night, until the med bay is quiet. The injured are being taken care of by anyone who knows how. The Healers are all but collapsed from exhaustion.</p>
<p>The head Healer comes to announce Kenma’s successful operation. He’s going to live –Kenma made it back just in time. Yamaguchi had insisted they don’t give up on him through the entire procedure.</p>
<p>Akaashi finds Yamaguchi asleep in one corner of the operating room, blood smeared on his clothes and his chin. Hinata hauls him up and they clean him in the bathrooms, offering spare clothes to change into. They find him a place to sleep, a spare bit of space beside a few other Healers.  Lev appears with a blanket to cover Yamaguchi's legs. The whites of his eyes are red from staring at a computer the entire day, and wearing himself thin in order to catch Anti-Operative stragglers.</p>
<p>“You’ve worked hard, Yamaguchi-kun.” Lev whispers, patting his hair. It’s tangled and stuck together by medication and drying blood. None of them are any better.</p>
<p>When he’s sure Yamaguchi is resting with Lev and Hinata nearby, Akaashi searches for Bokuto. It isn't easy to spot him, sat on the floor and burrowed into his knees. At first glance, he seems to be sleeping, and the position is going to do terrible things to his neck.</p>
<p>“Bokuto-san,” he kneels down, careful and slow, like he’s approaching a spooked animal, "Bokuto-san, you’ll hurt your neck sleeping here.”</p>
<p>Bokuto shifts – he’s not asleep - and scoffs like he intends to laugh at Akaashi’s ridiculousness. Humourless and sad. “Are you always this straightforward when speaking to bereaved individuals?”</p>
<p>Akaashi’s chest clenches, and his breath hitches. The noise catches Bokuto’s attention, but doesn’t make eye contact with Akaashi. His cheeks are hollow and sunken, face as pale white as his hair. Bokuto’s features twist like he’s battling an internal conflict, then morphs into an apologetic expression. “I’m sorry.”</p>
<p>Akaashi doesn’t want an apology, he isn’t deserving of one.</p>
<p>Now when the adrenaline has exhausted the both of them, things have changed. Bokuto’s opinion might have changed. He might not want to see Akaashi’s face anymore. After all, he’s not <em>his</em> Akaashi.</p>
<p>“Aka-,” he doesn't say the name, “can you sit with me?”</p>
<p>He plants himself a respectable distance away, making sure they won't touch by accident.</p>
<p>Bokuto doesn’t speak for some time, but Akaashi can wait. As long as it takes. Even when sunlight creeps in, obscured by the skyscrapers in front of the base, they still remain seated, and Akaashi still waits.</p>
<p>“Why... why was it him?" Boktuo asks, when the muffled chirp of birds and the rumble of car engines grows louder. "Why did you choose him, out of everyone in the world?"</p>
<p>There’s nothing to hide from Bokuto anymore. And Akaashi is tired of hiding and lying. So fucking tired.</p>
<p>He tells him everything. How agents arrive to the 21<sup>st</sup>, the Taskforce mission, the state of the future. He tells Bokuto when Akaashi Keiji died – or how he was supposed to. He admits the lies, how he never went to those summer classes, or the reason why he always eluded Bokuto’s offer to hang out.</p>
<p>Maybe it’s cruel. Maybe it’s exactly what Bokuto needs. He’s mourning.</p>
<p>After he finishes explaining the truth, Bokuto looks at Akaashi for the first time since they arrived to the base. <em>Properly</em> looks at him.</p>
<p>“I think I knew..." He croaks, voice tight, and touches right where his heart beats inside his chest, "deep down I know Akaashi was gone."</p>
<p>Maybe it’s a flaw of the memory-wiping drug. It can take memories away, but it will never rid your body of that feeling. The aching hollowness of losing a friend, the fear of the truth. That will always stay with you.</p>
<p>“I could tell, and maybe... I just didn’t want to accept it.” His nails dig into his knees. “I didn’t know what it was to be exact, but I saw the changes and… I knew he wasn’t the same anymore. I had no idea <em>this</em> was the reason.”</p>
<p>Akaashi swallows the lump in his throat. “I’m sorry, Bokuto-san.”</p>
<p>Bokuto shrugs. "What d'you have to apologise for? You're just doing your job."</p>
<p>Akaashi hates it so much. This isn’t fair.</p>
<p>“Akaashi Keiji was in love with you,” he admits, hearing a quiet gasp. “and he never got to tell you, did he?”</p>
<p>Bokuto shakes his head.</p>
<p>Why is Akaashi telling him this? Is he so cruel? What does this information give Bokuto except more pain? The knowledge that their <em>what if</em> could have come true, if only they had the courage to take the initiative. If only.</p>
<p>“He did. He loved you so much. As much as you loved him.” Inside his ribcage, his heart seizes and lurches, and breaks. “It was always you, Bokuto-san. There was never anyone else.”</p>
<p>He didn’t need to admit those words, those feelings, were coming from him too.</p>
<p>And then, Bokuto begins to cry. Silent little hiccups he can't muffle when he hunches in on himself. There’s a sick irony here somewhere. To mourn for a boy sitting right beside him.</p>
<p>He reaches to hold Akaashi's wrist. The fates must be sadists, if this is what they enjoy, Bokuto crying in the arms of a dead boy he loves with his entire being. Akaashi doesn’t move to hug him back, but he doesn’t push him away.</p>
<p>Because right now, there is no one else in the world who can understand Bokuto. How much he loved Akaashi Keiji – <em>still</em> loves Akaashi Keiji, and how much Bokuto misses him. Will miss him. Only he understands.</p>
<p>Maybe, in his own twisted way, Akaashi is mourning too.</p>
<p>--</p>
<p>Akaashi Yuuko finds Bokuto asleep in her dead son’s arms whose stare is blank and fixed on the ceiling, as his fingers run through Bokuto’s sugar-white hair.</p>
<p>"It was really brave to do what you did, back at the warehouse." Yuuko says, voice a soothing whisper.</p>
<p>Her stance is different from Akaashi's mother. Where she once crossed her arms, nose held high, now her arms are folded behind her back, and she swings on the balls of her feet. The business-formal make-up is gone, and her natural skin a little more tanned. Her eyes, viridian green and blue, are full of empathy. She's a complete stranger now.</p>
<p>"I broke Protocol. I exposed Mortos to the 21<sup>st</sup>." Akaashi dismisses her praise with an apathetic wave. "The Taskforce got <em>destroyed </em>because of me. I should be dead."</p>
<p>Yuuko smiles, and it softens her features into something gentle. Now she genuinely has the aura of a mother. "Morals tend to go out the window where friends and family are involved."</p>
<p>Akaashi looks up, careful not to jostle Bokuto. Yuuko’s casts a glance between him and Bokuto, like she knows what transpired between them with a single sweeping look.</p>
<p>"I'm probably the last Time Operative to arrive to the 21<sup>st</sup>." Yuuko sighs, seating herself by the wall. "It's never fun being last."</p>
<p>Akaashi offers her a wry smile with a sigh. "Sorry about that - you must’ve had a life there, and stuff."</p>
<p>"I'm in the Taskforce, sweetheart, there is no life for me in the future." Yuuko gives a playful retort. For once, the endearment, <em>sweetheart</em>, doesn't make Akaashi shudder with repulsion. "Out of all the information they possessed, the one thing the Taskforce never knew was how much time we had left."</p>
<p>Bokuto stirs in his sleep, and Akaashi automatically runs a hand through his hair. Yuuko smiles, and Akaashi blushes.</p>
<p>"And contrary to what they wanted humanity to believe, they never knew how much time we had left here either." Yuuko is using the past tense, and it really hits Akaashi that the Taskforce is gone. “I know the guilt is probably suffocating you.”</p>
<p>A tiny thunderstorm has been brewing inside of him, and it’s grown bigger and bigger as the months passed by.</p>
<p>“But here’s the thing – we’ve all done terrible things.” Yuuko tugs at the fraying end of her trouser leg. “Whether under the Taskforce’s orders, or our own volition to survive madness. But all the pain and guilt and grief can go away, with time.”</p>
<p>Akaashi regards Yuuko, his mother, someone entirely different. A person with wisdom beyond her years, someone who understands Akaashi’s pain like it’s her own.</p>
<p>“Pain and loss and guilt can turn our hearts into ugly things – things which hunger for more of that ugliness, because they convince us it’s what we deserve.” Yuuko sighs, ripping the fraying end off. “But you don’t have to let it turn your heart into something ugly. You can show the universe survival is beautiful – you do better today than you did yesterday. And eventually, you’ll find life can be about more than just survival.”</p>
<p>You get beaten to the ground by the order, by the world, by fate. And in the aftermath of brutality, you choose to be gentle. You choose to leave the cycle of chaos. You survived, and you survived beautifully. Now you can find more. You are free to find a purpose, and stop the cycle for good.</p>
<p><em>Even if it’s only one person in the world you want to save, it’s enough of an answer.</em> Akaashi saved Bokuto.</p>
<p>Now he can save the others.</p>
<p>“Thank you, Yuuko-san.” Akaashi exhales, fists clenching and unclenching on his thigh. “Your explanation was very eye-opening for me.”</p>
<p>“Of course, darling.” She swipes open her phone. “I should get going though, I’m due to meet a client this morning. Do you think my husband will be there? That’d be awkward.”</p>
<p>She stands to her feet, dusting off non-existent stains, and makes her way to the end of the hall.</p>
<p>“We’ll need to track Akaashi Keita too.” She muses. “Maybe we’ll make it a family reunion. That’d be fun… <em>not</em>.”</p>
<p>Akaashi smiles and thinks, Akaashi Yuuko is a wonderful person now.</p>
<p>"Oh, and one last thing," Yuuko twirls around before she turns the corner, "I'm aware your relationship with Akaashi Yuuko was rather... <em>strained</em>. For you, and for your host. And, well... I’m sorry for everything - even if it wasn't me who did it to you. But it's my responsibility now, as Akaashi Yuuko, to fix her mistakes."</p>
<p>Akaashi tilts his head in confusion. “Fix her mistakes? How so?”</p>
<p>"I'm hoping we could... get a chance to start over." Yuuko exhales, arms tense against her sides. "Perhaps it's an odd thing to do, but maybe we can... try to salvage whatever this family has broken. Even if it's just pretending to be mother and son."</p>
<p>Akaashi chokes up, covering it with a light cough. He avoids Yuuko's gaze when he nods, giving a soft <em>mhm</em> in agreement, even if Yuuko is aware he's crying.</p>
<p>She gives a polite bow in farewell. "I'm glad to hear that... Keiji-kun. I'll be seeing you later."</p>
<p>Even though he didn't know Akaashi's parents like his host had, he finds himself crying for them. Even if they were awful and vile, and sold their son out to the Anti-Operatives. He still feels like he's lost something important. Maybe it's that innermost part of his soul, a little piece the previous Akaashi Keiji carved out, mourning for his broken family.</p>
<p>Maybe it's something wholly his own. Because Akaashi has never experienced the luxury of having a parent, and now, even if it isn't real, the offer still has his heart clenching in his chest, and silent sobs escaping his lips.</p>
<p>He wishes so bad he could have this to himself for a little longer.</p>
<p>--</p>
<p>Giving Bokuto space to grieve without seeing the dead boy whose face Akaashi wears is difficult after their fates become so intertwined. Bokuto needs to be protected within headquarters on the off-chance possibility of an attack. Time Operatives don’t know what’ll happen, who might attack, when, where, how.</p>
<p>They don’t have help from the future anymore – the Taskforce is gone.</p>
<p>News channels, radio stations, and social media broadcasts Mortos all over the world. Newcasters discuss the substance’s properties as they were exposed by the government, the instances at Tokyo International Airport, and the abandoned warehouse. It’s a dangerous substance, they always say, but can generate enough electricity to power the biggest nation in the world. Undercover agents divulge instances of dealers scrambling obtain even a single drop in the black market, and militaries who take it for themselves to create artillery more destructive than atom bombs.</p>
<p>With the stunt Akaashi pulled, the Anti-Operative Volunteers will get the future they wanted. Or they would, if he didn’t have a contingency plan prepared. They will not be going towards a future full of war and terror.</p>
<p>Akaashi was born into this cruel, twisted, magnificent world for the sole purpose of saving it. Even if he fucked up, he is going to stop the cycle of chaos.</p>
<p>It will end with him.</p>
<p>Initially, the contingency plan was the part Kenma had refused to go through with. Convincing Kenma was the equivalent of punching your way through a brick wall, but eventually, the cement started to crack, and he agreed, albeit unhappily.</p>
<p>The chance of Akaashi surviving this is less than twenty percent.</p>
<p>It’s a stupid, reckless, suicidal plan – a way to repent for what Akaashi has done.</p>
<p>Kenma’s recovery is progressing at the predicted pace, but there will still be at least a few more days of waiting before he can prepare for the plan. While he waits, Akaashi musters the courage to talk to Bokuto, in an act of selfish pursuance for closure. Too much is left unsaid between them. Akaashi doesn’t want to leave a space for regret to pile up.</p>
<p>He offered for Bokuto to stay in Kenma’s office for the time being, so he can sleep on the sofa bed, and that’s where Akaashi finds him, pretending to read whilst spread across the bed.</p>
<p>Summer is leaving, and autumn has arrived in its place, with dead leaves floating through the sky, and chilly winds whistling outside. The office glows in peachy orange and candlewax yellow. Bokuto’s features are highlighted in the colours of the sunset, light made into a person, but more ethereal than the rest. The sight makes Akaashi falter, afraid to move lest he disturb such a scene.</p>
<p>But Bokuto glances up with a look in his eyes that has Akaashi going rigid. In an attempt to appear like he has reason to be here, Akaashi marches to the desks with robotic movements. He rifles through stacks of printed documents and written notes, Kenma’s writing almost illegible on all the papers.</p>
<p>The aircon whirrs on the back of his neck, but Akaashi feels like he’s suffocating. Something is in his throat, and he isn’t sure if it’s because of the nerves churning up his oesophagus, or the tears caught there.</p>
<p>He braces himself, grip tight until it wrinkles the papers. “I’ll be doing a mission soon.”</p>
<p>He receives silence in response.</p>
<p>“I just… wanted to tell you that.” He tries smoothing out the dog-eared pages on the documents.</p>
<p>Bokuto’s tone is void of any indication to what he’s feeling, and the monotony in his words sounds strange in his ears. “Will you… will you come back?”</p>
<p>Akaashi bites his lip. “I’m not sure.”</p>
<p>The hitched breath is muffled under blankets and pillows, but Akaashi hears it, along with the scuff of fabric getting tossed off. “You’re not sure?”</p>
<p>Socked feet pad on polished tiles, until Bokuto is a stretched arm’s length away. Akaashi keeps his gaze steady on the documents. "We can't communicate with the future anymore, I can't predict what will happen to me."</p>
<p>"What - what the hell kind of mission are you doing then, if you aren't receiving orders from the future anymore?" Bokuto swallows audibly.</p>
<p>Fingers stall on the last of the reports stacked along the desk. "I planned it on my own. I'm going to install my consciousness into an AI. To create a new Director."</p>
<p>That's the end goal. The biggest, stupidest bet he's ever made.</p>
<p>"So you're just... going to <em>die?</em>"</p>
<p>Akaashi falters. Bokuto's voice has never become so unemotional. "I told you, I’m not sure. But whether I die or not, as long as it succeeds, it's all that matters."</p>
<p>"All that matters?" Bokuto parrots with an incredulous tone. His voice is low, kept to the hiss of a whisper. "Do you want to die so much, Akaashi!?”</p>
<p>The words hiss and ring in his ears. Bokuto used his name, he called him Akaashi. It gets Akaashi to face him. "What? No, I-"</p>
<p>“Are you going to leave me too then? After everything?” Bokuto’s voice cracks, scratchy like sandpaper, wobbling with irrepressible emotions, and Akaashi’s façade starts to crumble.</p>
<p>He gives Bokuto a pitying look. "I don't have a choice."</p>
<p>"No.” Bokuto shakes his head. “Don't say that. You can <em>make one</em>. You've done it before."</p>
<p>"What am I supposed to do, Bokuto-san?" Akaashi retorts, voice rising. Why is he so adamant on this? "What do you suppose I try instead? I destroyed the Taskforce, and I exposed the one thing that's going to lead to the world's demise faster than any disaster. I <em>have</em> to do something!"</p>
<p>"And this is the fucked-up way you’re gonna atone, then? Is that what you're doing?" Bokuto asks. "Because if it's forgiveness you need, I will give it to you."</p>
<p>Akaashi wonders whether he’s doing a good job at keeping the ache he feels in his heart off his face. "I can't just accept it and move on with my life. I lied to you, hurt your feelings, and got you involved in this entire situation. I <em>killed</em> people. I've - I'm-"</p>
<p><em>I'm the reason Akaashi Keiji is dead. I'm the reason you got kidnapped and taken away by a cult of maniacs.</em> How can Bokuto forgive him so easily?</p>
<p>"Is this your way of redeeming yourself for getting me involved in all of this?" Bokuto asks, and Akaashi freezes. "Because you got close to me, is that it?"</p>
<p>Akaashi tries to deny it, but Bokuto isn’t convinced.</p>
<p>"Those Anti-Operative Volunteer people said some things..." Bokuto murmurs, mulling it over. "About you getting too close to someone like me, from the 21<sup>st</sup>. That your biggest fault is getting feelings involved with work, and it became your weakness. Am I... do you... Akaashi, are you in-"</p>
<p>“We don’t involve people like you into this world!” Akaashi cuts him off before he can say the dreaded word. He doesn’t want to hear it. He <em>refuses</em>. “There is a reason for that, and one of them is because you can get <em>hurt</em>. Do you not understand, Bokuto-san? I fucked up, and you got hurt in the process - you could've been <em>killed!</em>"</p>
<p>He's panting, lungs shrinking with panic. Bokuto's eyes are wide with shock. He may have cut him off from saying the forbidden <em>love</em> word, but that confirms it. Bokuto knows about Akaashi’s feelings for him.</p>
<p>"And I should be dead for getting you involved in this,” Akaashi heaves, “my consciousness should've been ripped out the second I got caught disobeying Protocol."</p>
<p>Because the moment Akaashi stopped thinking about justice or principles or heroics, he should have died. He isn’t supposed to be special, someone - something? - playing a larger role than a supporter. A silent and invisible martyr, pulling the tides in the direction of a better future.</p>
<p>Akaashi shuts his mouth, whipping around, and sharply taps the last of the administrative documents into a straight stack. It was a mistake to talk to Bokuto. He’s grieving, and the both of them are blazing with frustration and loss, too overwhelmed to keep up a proper conversation with each other.</p>
<p>They’re nothing but mere strangers now. Has the friendship between them dwindled into this? Taking their frustrations out on each other, because they both lost someone they love?</p>
<p>“I remember practicing to ask you out in front of the mirror.” Bokuto huffs. Akaashi’s head snaps up. Their gazes lock, and Akaashi is pinned in place. “I wanted to do it for so long. But every time felt wrong. I chickened out, hesitated – or you slipped away before I could do it. And you slipped away a lot.”</p>
<p>His heart squeezes, then thumps jackrabbit, despite how much Akaashi tries to calm it down.</p>
<p>“A lot of things are making sense now,” The pads of Bokuto’s fingers tap-tap-tap on the wooden desk, “it was a little weird how you suddenly became so…”</p>
<p>The word he assumed Bokuto was looking for was <em>cold</em>. Instead, he uses the word. “<em>You</em>.”</p>
<p>There’s a smile that doesn’t quiet reach. Golden eyes look up at a ceiling of cobwebs. Through the window, light fading from light blue, to orange and pink, gives the illusion of a dimmed halo around his head. There are no stars to be seen. “I was worried something happened with your parents again.” He snorts. “I was way off with that one.”</p>
<p>Akaashi’s shoulders grows heavy, a familiar feeling he never wanted to experience again. The same from when Bokuto used to point out the imperfections of his sets, how they were so un-Akaashi, and how he was always cautious around the responses he received. Is this going to be the only thing Bokuto can talk to him about? Point out little pieces of him that don't fit? All of Akaashi is out of place.</p>
<p>“But it… it never felt wrong. I thought you were starting to come out of your shell.” Bokuto clutches the ends of his sleeves. “You were different, but it wasn’t in a bad way. You studied less, and still got good grades – which, impressive, by the way. But I don’t think it’s a particularly bad thing.”</p>
<p>The more you try to hide your yearning from someone, the more you fall in love with them. Akaashi had watched it happen, from the very beginning, and didn’t recognise – in its own fucked-up way – the yearning was for him too.</p>
<p>The papers almost slip from between Akaashi’s fingers.</p>
<p>“I got used to the change, and realised – I didn’t mind it. You seemed to relax more, like you were more confident. I thought <em>so this is what the real Akaashi is like</em>, and I liked how you were more comfortable being yourself, even if it wasn’t as bright as the you of the past. I… <em>liked</em> you.”</p>
<p>Akaashi slams the reports down with more force than intended, startling not only Bokuto, but himself too. It cuts off the tangent Bokuto was going on, and drowns them in silence again.</p>
<p>“Protocol 3 forbids Time Operatives from getting involved with individuals in the 21<sup>st</sup>.” He recites like an instruction manual.</p>
<p>“But the Taskforce no longer exists, it isn’t stopping you.”</p>
<p>Akaashi’s nails dig into his palms. “Those who do harm and hurt other do not deserve love.”</p>
<p>“Then do you think you’re undeserving of love, Akaashi?” His lack of response is enough of an answer. Bokuto releases a wistful sigh. “I wish you could see yourself through my eyes. The way I see you – saw you – for so many months. Maybe you’d realise how special you are. To me.”</p>
<p>“Is this some sort of ploy to make me confess?” Akaashi snaps, cringing at the tremble in his voice. “Because it isn’t fun. You know it. I know it.”</p>
<p>“I – no, that’s not it.” For a second, the splash of colour on their faces offers some sense of normalcy. Two friends, on the precipice of something more. “I wanted to… I’m trying to say you’re being too harsh on yourself.”</p>
<p>A flash of anger rushes through his gut. <em>He’s</em> the one being too harsh? The reason he’s so on edge is because Bokuto barely holds any rage towards him! Not a hint of resentment, not an ounce of hatred. The only reason Bokuto is upset is because Akaashi said he’s going to recreate the Director. <em>Why?</em></p>
<p>He doesn’t realise he’s said it aloud until Bokuto’s expression softens, as if he’s finally come to understand the meaning behind Akaashi’s meaningless rambles.</p>
<p>“Your name is Akaashi Keiji too, but you are your own person. You’re different. At least, in my eyes, you are.” Saying his name makes something crack in Bokuto’s demeanour, and he wipes away tears springing up. “I… I won’t be able to forget him, ever. But I can… I can understand you did what you had to do, and I don’t – I don’t blame you for it.”</p>
<p>The sincerity in his words makes it so much worse. Akaashi swipes at the tears escaping his eyes. "But I... how - how could you say that when I-"</p>
<p>
  <em>When I'm the reason he's dead? The person you're in love with is dead because of me.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>(Why do you not hate me?)</em>
</p>
<p>Akaashi has been struggling to stay afloat when waves of self-loathing have crashed over him, pulling him under. The more he resists the chains, the tighter they wrap around him. He's drowning with guilt at what he's done, and Bokuto is <em>forgiving</em> him?</p>
<p>“How can you even look at me?” His expression must be incredulous. “After what you found out, you don’t hate me? This whole time, I was pretending to be someone you love!”</p>
<p>If someone were to ask Akaashi who he is, he could not even give them a name. All he is now; the things he enjoys, the things he hates, his emotions and his desires, are all parts stolen from someone he desperately needed to be. He was born to be somebody else – a defective copy.</p>
<p>“You were doing whatever you could to survive – to save the future.” Bokuto interrupts his spiralling thoughts. “I can never hate you for that. Because you were still important to me – you <em>are</em> important to me. You’ve got your own interests – you love reading books, and cold weather, and playing volleyball. You’re not as passionate about studying medicine as he used to be. And sure, you’ve got a few things in common, like enjoying spicy food, staying up late.”</p>
<p>Bokuto touches his forearm, and Akaashi fights not to lean into his warmth.</p>
<p>“You’re loyal and protective of the people you care about. You make sure the members are comfortable, and you help the first-years when they’re struggling, and you always offer to buy the team food because you worry they aren’t eating enough.” Bokuto’s eyes of pure liquid gold pierce through Akaashi’s iron-walls, and unearth the truths hidden beneath lies. “That didn’t seem like pretending anymore. Not to me. I don’t see somebody forcing themselves to fit into a role. I just see you.”</p>
<p>The stars are never visible in the city, because the lights are too bright and the streets too flashy, and yet he sees one right in front of him, glowing as bright as a thousand in the sky.</p>
<p>“Akaashi Keiji was my best friend,” The whisper of his name is too close to his lips, “he was my first love, he was someone wonderful. But… you’re important to me too now, don’t you get it? We’ve been friends this whole time, even if I didn’t know the truth, and you’re just as important to me… and I don’t think it’s impossible for us to remain- <em>friends</em>…”</p>
<p>The way Bokuto hesitated on the word <em>friends</em> suggests he wanted to use some other term; a synonym of higher significance, or something with an entirely different meaning. Whatever it is, Akaashi’s ribs feel hollow, so much so it makes him the world spin. His expression must be comical; eyes wide and mouth agape.</p>
<p>Because he is stunned by the person standing before him. Bokuto Koutarou, who is still caring and kind. Bokuto Koutarou who is genuine and smart and too perceptive for his own good.</p>
<p>Bokuto Koutarou who still wants to be his <em>friend</em>.</p>
<p>“So I’m going to ask you one more time, Akaashi Keiji,” he takes a deep, shaky breath, like he knows the answer already, but wants to beg one final time, “please don’t… please don’t leave me too.”</p>
<p>His brain is firing synapses to his nerves, urging him to touch Bokuto, feel his skin (alive and whole and well), to bring their lips together (and kiss for longer than they ever intended, until the sky is dark, whispering the dreaded confession against each other’s lips – <em>I love you</em>).</p>
<p>And Akaashi ignores all of it. His heart is traitorous. Protocol or no Protocol, it’s impossible to make something out of their relationship when it is so broken. He should be grateful for what he has right now, this shy friendship, while he still has it.</p>
<p>“I need to get back to work.” Is Akaashi’s sole response, indicating the end of their conversation.</p>
<p>Nothing can be done anymore. Akaashi made his choice, and now he has to see it out to the end.</p>
<p>--</p>
<p>“If you die, I give you permission to haunt me as a ghost.” Kenma fights to untangle the wires he’ll be wrapping around Akaashi’s head. “Because if I end up killing my best friend, then I deserve it.”</p>
<p>"I knew it. You'd be lonely without me, Kenma-<em>kun</em>." Akaashi smirks.</p>
<p>Kenma tries to smile, but it's forced. Neither of them wants to bring up what’s about to happen – installing Akaashi’s consciousness into a machine. A new Director. Unlike the Taskforce, Kenma doesn’t intend to kill him. Or at least, he’s going to try. The process is delicate, and it’s never been done before. Forcibly taking someone’s consciousness, and then taking it apart, has always been much easier. But Kenma is the best Hacker in the Taskforce, and Akaashi trusts him with his life. Literally.</p>
<p>“I won’t let anything happen to you.” Kenma murmurs, sliding the needlepoint into Akaashi’s vein. His voice is quite, but strong with certainty, less like he wants to believe it, and more like he <em>does</em>. “You’re my family now. I’m not going to let you slip away so easily.”</p>
<p>Fondness blossoms in his sternum like a late-blooming flower, taking root in his core and blood and bones. Never did Akaashi predict he would have this.</p>
<p>And when Bokuto enters the operating room too, and looks at him with an expression of love and restrained tears, his heart expands, constricts, squeezes all at once. So full with love, Akaashi worries it might burst. Even in a moment like this.</p>
<p>Akaashi always believed he was alone in the world. That he’d spend his life working – living up to the Taskforce’s expectations – until it inevitably cut short. He wouldn’t have friends. Anyone special. He was raised in isolation, with social interactions limited to training simulations. He accepted it. He was fine with it.</p>
<p>But now, in an operating room on his potential deathbed, he feels it: the exquisiteness of possibility, of hope for family and friends (and maybe something more). And if a glimpse is the only thing he’ll get, he’s fine with it.</p>
<p>“I told him we’re doing this shit today.” Kenma, the ass, hides a smirk behind his hair. “We’ll wait outside for a few minutes, give you some space.”</p>
<p>The Healers and Kenma leave the operating room, preparing to put of their latex gloves and masks. Bokuto approaches the bed, eyeing the IV needle in Akaashi’s arm, and the wires soon to go around his head.</p>
<p>“Bokuto-san.” He can’t reach out because it will disrupt the syringes.</p>
<p>"You're really gonna ignore all my begging and pleading, huh?" Bokuto crosses his arms, tight with nerves and anxiety. “I bore my heart and soul to you, and you can’t even promise me one thing.”</p>
<p>Akaashi offers a sad smile. "Promises can be broken out of necessity. Or unpredictable circumstances. I didn’t want to promise you anything false.”</p>
<p>Bokuto puffs up his cheeks, mouth opening and closing as he struggles to form the right words. "Akaashi, you're a big jerk!"</p>
<p>And that has him reeling, sputtering and turning red. "W-what? A jerk?"</p>
<p>"The worst!" He exclaims, golden eyes shimmering with unshed tears. It’d be endearing in any other situation. "You're leaving me - you're going to leave me when I asked you to stay."</p>
<p>“Bokuto-san, I don’t think you understand. I’m not-”</p>
<p>“But I do understand!” He exclaims, hands clenched at his sides. “You’re not the same as him, but I told you – I still care about you. You’re different, but I like you as much as I liked him – and that’s why I’m being so horrible and selfish and asking you to stay by my side.”</p>
<p>Akaashi wants to stay as bad as he wants to kiss Bokuto. He wants to scream, and cry, and yell about how unfair this world is to him. But he doesn't.</p>
<p>"You're gonna have to let go of me, Bokuto-san." He says, looking away from the ache covering Bokuto’s face.</p>
<p>Bokuto refuses.</p>
<p>"I can't stay by your side." He tries to keep his voice void of emotion so Bokuto can’t tell how much they’re guiding him right now.</p>
<p>
  <em>I want to stay with you so badly.</em>
</p>
<p>"Let me go.” <em>Please let me stay.</em></p>
<p>“I need you to let go.” <em>I don’t want you to leave.</em></p>
<p>Bokuto shakes his head again, burying himself in the crook of Akaashi’s neck. The drip of tears on his skin makes him shiver.</p>
<p>“Promise me, Akaashi,” his lips are pressing against him when he speaks, insistent and stubborn, “promise me you’ll come back. I don’t… if I lose you too – I don’t know what I’ll do.”</p>
<p>It takes Akaashi’s breath away. Being near him. Surrounded by his comforting scent. Feeling his body tremor where they touch. His own hands wrap around Bokuto’s strong back, gripping the back of his shirt like his life depends on it, worried if he lets go, he’s going to disappear. And he doesn’t want him to go.</p>
<p>Akaashi had been lying to himself – he knows it – convinced he was strong enough to let Bokuto go. He wasn’t strong. He isn’t.</p>
<p>It doesn’t matter what he says or does, Akaashi Keiji could never let Bokuto Koutarou go. So, he’s an idiot, and he takes back everything he said. “Okay. I promise. I’ll come back.”</p>
<p>The background noise of heart monitors and oxygen machines reverberates closer and closer. The Healers are coming back. The warm space they’d created grows frigid, when Bokuto pulls away, and the medics return, Kenma in tow.</p>
<p>“I’ll be waiting for you.”</p>
<p>The Healers complete the preparations, attaching Akaashi to a heart monitor, an oxygen mask over his mouth, and Bokuto stays by his side. When a smell similar to nail polish enters his lungs through the mask, sharp and tangy and eye-watering, Bokuto still remains. Even when the sleeping-drug takes effect, even when his vision blurs to a dark tunnel, Bokuto stays.</p>
<p>There are no stars in the future. But, Akaashi thinks he's found his own, right here.</p>
<p>
  <strong>--</strong>
</p>
<p>Under a comatose state, he didn’t think it was possible to dream – but Akaashi does. It’s a short dream, a glimpse of something he isn’t supposed to be seeing. A glimpse of the afterlife. He sees the previous Akaashi Keiji – a vague visual going in an out under a ring of flickering white light. They’re close enough for him to see the tears running down pale cheeks. Whether it’s from sadness or joy, or something else, he can’t tell.</p>
<p>Maybe it’s acceptance.</p>
<p>He looks at himself, wondering if he’ll see unblemished skin, or blistered scars. He sees a mirror image of Akaashi Keiji’s body.</p>
<p>“Keep living, will you?” The previous Akaashi Keiji tells him, more of a demand than a suggestion. The corners of his mouth curve up into a small, sad and mournful smile. “Don’t let my life be lost in vain – our life. Keep living, keeping fighting. You’re going to find a world that’s alive.”</p>
<p>He nods before the previous Akaashi finishes, another promise to keep. This one, he intends to keep until the day he dies. And that day won’t be today. Not now.</p>
<p>“And promise me,” his voice starts to fade with his body, into a void of white and gold, “love Bokuto Koutarou enough for the both of us.”</p>
<p>--</p>
<p>When Akaashi Keiji wakes up, he wakes up slowly, with a strange muted quality in every sensation. He’s submerged under water, wrapped in the waves, but he doesn’t remember where he is. Or how he got here.</p>
<p>His eyes are heavy when he tries to open them, flickering back to sluggish awareness. The ceiling is grey and grim, the beep of a heart monitor, slow, slow, slow, reaching his ears.</p>
<p>Is he at a hospital? He can’t remember. He can’t remember anything.</p>
<p>He only knows his own name.</p>
<p>Panic coils in his gut, and the monitor beep-beep-beeps faster to match whatever is going on inside him. Akaashi’s elbows shake with the effort it takes to haul himself up from the bed, to rip the cords and needles out.</p>
<p>He needs to get out of this place, he needs to go, he has to find-</p>
<p>(Find who?)</p>
<p>The intense cold of the polished flooring shocks his nerves into action, and when he stands, knees buckling. He nearly collapses, but grips onto anything in his vicinity to reach the door, sliding it open enough to slip out.</p>
<p>But when he lets go of the wall acting as his sole support, he falls with a painful thump on his knees.</p>
<p>"Akaashi?" The name echoes through an empty hallway, called on by a familiar voice.</p>
<p>Something in Akaashi’s brain wails like a siren, screaming to him - this is it, this is what he’s looking for, he has to go to him, he promised-</p>
<p>On the other end of the corridor, Bokuto is frozen in shock, eyes wide pools of liquid gold. On the other end of the corridor, Akaashi finds his star.</p>
<p>The memories come back slowly. So slowly it makes his temple throb. A mission, a boy, a dream, the world, and the Director. None of it matters right now – he needs to reach the star in front of him. Take him into his arms. Hear the beat of Bokuto’s heart against his ear.</p>
<p>Bokuto breaks into a jog, running to him, until his knees drop to the ground with an unpleasant thunk. He flings his arms around Akaashi, and holds him like he can’t believe this is real. His heart thuds so loudly, Akaashi can feel it.</p>
<p>And then, Bokuto starts to cry, body quivering. He’s sobbing into Akaashi’s hair, stroking the tangles out like he’s trying to tell him it will all be okay now – whatever it happens to be. Akaashi doesn’t particularly care.</p>
<p>Because Bokuto is here, he’s safe, and that’s all that matters.</p>
<p>Akaashi’s vision blurs. He can’t seem to find his voice, so he buries into Bokuto’s neck, fingers meaninglessly grabbing at fabric and skin so he can pull him closer. Bokuto noses his hair, inhaling the scent of Akaashi underneath the sharp sting of alcohol, latex, and medicine.</p>
<p>“You came back.”</p>
<p>“I promised I would, didn’t I?” He laughs, rough and gritty.</p>
<p>And suddenly Bokuto tugs him up, palms curving to fit the shape of Akaashi’s cheeks, and holds him. Their eyes meet, honey-gold and viridian green and blue, and an earth-shattering smile appears on Bokuto’s features. “You came back.”</p>
<p>Looking into his eyes, Akaashi falls in love all over again.</p>
<p>He smiles, although he’s not sure if it turns into a smile or more of a grimace. But it’s enough, and Bokuto’s attention is brought to his lips. Akaashi copies, looking at Bokuto’s.</p>
<p>(He wants to kiss him, throw his weak arms around Bokuto’s neck, pull him towards his lips, hold him close and whisper those dreaded, forbidden words into his mouth.)</p>
<p>His voice is so hoarse, and barely above a whisper, but Bokuto understands. “Kiss me. Please.”</p>
<p>Bokuto tugs his face closer, and their lips meet, and Akaashi forgets the world around him. It’s soft with heart-breaking sincerity, a wordless confession of what remains unspoken between them. It’s his first kiss, but Akaashi knows there will never be anything better than what he’s experiencing right now.</p>
<p>(In the back of his mind, an inner voice tells him this shouldn’t be happening, but then, Bokuto’s arms slide down his back, settling around his waist, and the rest of the world turns to mush.)</p>
<p>A kiss and an embrace, mending the broken stitches deep inside, and telling him; it’s going to be okay.</p>
<p>They pull apart after what must only be a few seconds, but to Akaashi, it feels like hours have passed. He’s breathless from fatigue – and the kiss knocked the air right out of his lungs. But Bokuto’s lips still linger by his mouth, touching his bottom lip like he doesn’t want to move away yet, and Akaashi doesn’t want to open his eyes yet – he’s not sure he’s able to. Like he can’t let this moment go yet.</p>
<p>Bokuto appears ready to dive in for another kiss, until the sound of footsteps rushing around the corner stops them. A group of Healers arrive, having received the signal from the heart monitor he’s no longer attached to. They reprimand him from escaping bedrest, and he’s half-carried half-led back to his bed with Bokuto’s help.</p>
<p>The head Healer checks his vitals, whilst Yamaguchi inserts the IV drip into his arms again, and it takes a moment more for Kenma to run into the room. He’s frazzled, but he approaches Akaashi and hugs him hard. More tears get involved, and Akaashi comes away from the entire ordeal a mess of tears and snot – and it’s gross but he also can’t find it in himself to care when his family is right beside him.</p>
<p>“All seems to be in order.” Yamaguchi finishes checking Akaashi’s pupils, and jots something on a clipboard. “Temporary amnesia is a given – seeing as you basically tried to copy-and-paste your brain into another system. Give it some time, and things will start coming back to you soon.”</p>
<p>“All the intel is loading up into my computer.” Kenma explain, stroking at his exposed forearm. His skin is paler than a ghost. Akaashi can tell Kenma overexerted himself for this – their final mission. “It’ll take some time to access international data though.”</p>
<p>“Does it work?” He asks.</p>
<p>“It does. The mission was a success.” Kenma says, squeezing his hand. “You’re fine.”</p>
<p>On his left, Bokuto holds his other hand. Akaashi feels sandwiched, too hot – but he doesn’t want to let either of them go.</p>
<p>“Take me to see it, please.” And they do, rolling up a wheelchair so he won’t have to limp through the winding halls.</p>
<p>In Kenma’s office, Yuuko is there. Her features soften into effervescent relief when she sees him, waving them over. His mother is a Hacker now, combining efforts with his friend to make sure the procedure goes without a hitch.</p>
<p><em>Mother</em>. The word used to hold so much indignation before. Now, it sounds right.</p>
<p>Kenma’s entire office has transformed into a processing room. It reminds Akaashi of the future, the space where they used to keep the Director, a barrage of cables and processors and data, glowing luminescent green and blue and dark from Mortos. It used to unsettle Akaashi, if he ever had the misfortune of going inside. Like he was visiting an alternate universe, in the presence of a being too mighty for human comprehension.</p>
<p>(To think, it was an amalgamation of Time Operatives the entire time.)</p>
<p>Kenma’s office doesn’t glow, the blue light of computer screens the sole source of illumination. They approach the centre processor, what used to be Kenma’s computer, and the display blinks awake.</p>
<p>Akaashi’s eyes widen.</p>
<p>“We hardwired it to install every piece of data in the world.” Yuuko explains, using simpler terms for Bokuto to understand. “It’s slow – might blow up if we don’t connect it to something stronger – but the new Director works.”</p>
<p>The screen doesn’t show a list of a predictions, no command or due-deaths to come. Protocol isn’t popping up with the threat of taking their consciousness away if they showcase a hint of weakness.</p>
<p>
  <strong>[Protocol Genesis: Prevent the distribution of Mortos to stay on optimal path]</strong>
</p>
<p>Below is a map of locations where Mortos is being distributed, hideouts for straying Anti-Operative members. Their job isn’t over. But they’re crafting their own path now, paving the way for a better future.</p>
<p>“This is it?” Akaashi asks, voice nasally from all the crying he’s done – he’s pretty sure he cried more in the past thirty minutes than he has in his entire life.</p>
<p>“We must prevent Mortos from being manufactured or distributed by anyone. Good or bad.” Yuuko confirms with a nod. “Nobody can possess such a volatile substance.”</p>
<p>“What do we do with it?”</p>
<p>“Keep it hidden, somewhere no one in the 21<sup>st</sup> can find it.” Bokuto pipes up, squeezing Akaashi’s shoulder nervously when everyone’s attention settles on him.</p>
<p>Akaashi leans into the touch and agrees.</p>
<p>They still don’t have a way to communicate with the future. It doesn’t exist anymore. The Taskforce, the Engineers, the missions. The Factions, the Councilmen, the Anti-Operative Volunteers. None of it.</p>
<p>Maybe that isn’t a bad thing.</p>
<p>The future is meant to be created, not predicted.</p>
<p>Akaashi is going to create it. Something better.</p>
<p>
  <em>Even if it’s only one person in the world you want to save, it’s enough of an answer.</em>
</p>
<p>So Akaashi chooses to save one. By changing the world.</p>
<p>--</p>
<p>Akaashi’s recovery is a speedy process and he’s back on his feet in a week. He’d love to get a chance to go to the training facility and get himself back up to speed. His body is still sluggish and weak from the bedrest, but Bokuto insists he needs to take it slow.</p>
<p>Easier said than done when the Mech. Operative station becomes a hub as hectic as a publishing house finishing late-submissions. There are reports which must be distributed to agents all over the world on information of what to do. Anti-Operative agents need to be located from the shadows they lurk within. Mortos manufacturing sites need to be taken out. Akaashi doesn’t even want to look at what’s going on in the black-market scene.</p>
<p>His father, Akaashi Keita, is still out there. Yuuko promised to find him, but he’s dropped off the radar. News outlets talk about the strange disappearance of one of the nation’s most powerful lawyers. There’s a high possibility he’s fled the country – Akaashi Yuuko and Keita had connections all over the world to different types of people.</p>
<p>Yuuko has taken it upon herself to track him down, and left Japan in search of her husband (“<em>Ex</em>-husband,” she clarified with sour distaste, “I had no part in choosing <em>him</em> as my partner.”). It hurt when she left, when Akaashi only recently gotten her back.</p>
<p>(Or rather, when he’d gotten someone to call a mother in the first place.)</p>
<p>Akaashi doesn’t have a chance to miss her, because the new schedule shows him no mercy. He’s juggling more responsibilities now than when the Taskforce existed. Rest is a pipe dream, and Akaashi skips class to keep up with his duties. His sole reprieve is volleyball, but even then, his body can’t keep up with the physical toll, and he’s benched more often than not.</p>
<p><em>Maybe I’ll drop out of university</em>, Akaashi muses, chugging half of his water in one go. The prospect of abandoning the previous Akaashi’s dream makes the water taste acrid in his mouth.</p>
<p>(Maybe a change of careers is a better pursuit. Akaashi has always adored reading. Books nourished his soul when life became nothing but a desert. A touch of magic in isolation. A meaning to his life, scattered among art – books, music, paintings. He wants to bring it forth here, to show it to the real world.)</p>
<p>(Maybe the publishing world is where he belongs instead.)</p>
<p>Talking to Kenma isn’t easy either. He’s working on the new Director, powering the machine up so it won’t break. When he isn’t installing people’s consciousness into a machine, he’s asleep on the sofa bed, dead to the world for the next couple of hours. Akaashi makes sure to leave him his favourite sweetened ice coffee to wake up to.</p>
<p>And Kenma is planning to tell Kuroo the truth. About the Time Operatives. It’s safe to do it now, but there’s still a risk the other person won’t handle it well. There always is, and Akaashi assures Kenma he’ll be there for him if things go wrong (“Yamaguchi has some memory-wiping drugs we can snatch.” Akaashi suggests to get a laugh out of his friend. But Kenma retorts. “Yamaguchi went back to Sendai last week. You won’t be snatching shit. And the other Healers aren’t as lenient with their needles as he was.”)</p>
<p>In Akaashi’s normal life, he found an apartment to rent. It’s further away from university, a bigger distance than the previous one, but Akaashi doesn’t mind. He enjoys the time to himself, the stroll through the park, before he meets Bokuto on the other side. He offered it to Yuuko too, seeing as it isn’t safe for her to return to the penthouse she lived in with Akaashi Keita – and her presence made the place become lively. It’s sad it was so short-lived.</p>
<p>But she’ll come back soon, with a promise to bring home souvenirs and gifts for him and his friends from her ‘business trip’.</p>
<p>Life is mercilessly hectic, but it’s a new kind of normal now.</p>
<p>One day after volleyball practice, he’s walking home with Bokuto. They reach their usual place at the park, but instead of parting ways, Bokuto accompanies him, asking to talk.</p>
<p>In the middle of autumn, the weather is perfect. Not too hot, not too cold. They seat themselves on a bench, watching leaves fall from the faintest brush of the wind. Nature is so pretty, brown and orange and maroon. Autumn might be Akaashi’s favourite season.</p>
<p>“Hey, ‘kaashi.” He will never tire of Bokuto saying his name, not after everything he’s seen. “About… about what happened when you woke up, with the – when we kissed…”</p>
<p>Akaashi’s face flares when his mind provides him a reel of images from that day. “No, no, no, don’t say anything - I should be apologising to you. I-I asked you in the heat of the moment, and it was – it was my mistake. We can forget it. If that’s what you want.”</p>
<p>Bokuto chuckles nervously. “That’s kind of the thing. I… don’t want to… forget about it.”</p>
<p>Akaashi stills.</p>
<p>“I’m… I loved Akaashi Keiji – although I guess you already knew.” Bokuto confesses. “But I care about you too. A lot. And I want to stay by your side, through whatever is to come. Even if it’s not going to be easy, I want to be with you.”</p>
<p>“But… you… it’s dangerous to be by my side.” Akaashi says. “I’m still a Time Operative, and I’m still going to put my life on the line. I’m still going to try and save the world and stop Mortos from being used by militaries, and I’m going to involve myself in so many things. The black market, Anti-Operative Volunteers. I’m still going to do that. And I don’t want to put you in danger because of my actions.”</p>
<p>Bokuto’s golden eyes shine with determination. He’s resolute in his decision. “I want to stay by your side. I trust you – with my life. And I know you won’t ever let anything happen to me.”</p>
<p>Bokuto trusts him (<em>him, not the previous Akaashi Keiji</em>) like it’s the easiest thing in the world. After everything that’s happened. Like Akaashi isn’t selfish, and volatile, and crass, and too attached for his own good.</p>
<p>He lets out a sigh, one of accepted defeat. “You’re not going to take no for an answer, are you?”</p>
<p>Bokuto won’t.</p>
<p>“Alright.” Their fingers intertwine. “I’ll stay with you for as long as you’ll have me.”</p>
<p>“Promise?”</p>
<p>“I promise.”</p>
<p>It’s scary not knowing what is going to happen, if what they’re doing is right or wrong or bringing them closer to their demise. If Akaashi’s actions are bringing him closer to his death, or risk putting someone he loves in great danger.</p>
<p>But that’s the thing - nobody actually knows what the future has in store, even those who were there couldn’t possibly predict how a butterfly mission could make something go wrong.</p>
<p>And hey, if nobody comes back to the 21<sup>st</sup> century to stop them, then they must be on the right track, yeah?</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>
  <strong>OMAKE</strong>
</p>
<p>Living in the future, Akaashi never understood why people looked at the metal ceiling when they spoke about someone who died. In the 21st century, people did the same thing, except the looked at the sky instead, which made a little more sense.</p>
<p>Akaashi came to learn that people believed those who lost their lives went to the heavens in the sky. That's why they looked at the clouds when they were grieving. Some days, he finds Bokuto looking at the sky, and he knows the previous Akaashi Keiji is on his mind. </p>
<p>Or in some cultures, they set up little shrines in their homes, and give offerings to the deceased. When he visits Bokuto's new apartment after graduating, he finds one there, without any photos or names to offer insight on who it's for. Whenever somebody asks, Bokuto smiles sadly, and says it's a dear friend he lost.</p>
<p>People find it a little odd because Bokuto never mentioned a close friend passing before. But they don't wish to pry, and give their condolences instead.</p>
<p>Akaashi knows who it's for.</p>
<p>The hole left behind by his death will never truly go away. Nightmares of wicked agents, and fires, and the person he loves, pointing a pistol to his own head, the replace dreams may not disappear either.</p>
<p>It isn't a void Akaashi aspires to fill in some way. But he helps alleviate some Bokuto’s pain, in different ways. Whether by wiping the tears Bokuto fails to hide, or visiting him in the night so they can curl into each other's arms. Whatever it takes to alleviate the ache left behind, to assure him it’s going to be okay, the pain will lessen with time.</p>
<p>In the future, that void in Bokuto's heart won't hurt as much anymore.</p>
<p>One night, Akaashi comes to Bokuto’s apartment to comfort him after another gruesome nightmare. One where it’s Akaashi in Bokuto’s place, tied to a metal pipe, and a gun pointed at his temple, right before Uchimura Rei shoots.</p>
<p>Akaashi enjoys running his fingers through Bokuto’s hair, and whilst he’s doing it, he decides to tell him the story of the stars in the furnace. Of a human who looked at the galaxy and felt homesick for their star. Perhaps it might offer Bokuto some solace. To envisage the Akaashi from before as the star Bokuto missed.</p>
<p>But to his surprise, Bokuto asks how the shooting stars. How do they play into the picture? Akaashi chuckles, commenting how the storyteller must not have taken comets into consideration when they made up that tale. After mulling it over, he fills in the blanks.</p>
<p>Maybe shooting stars were the stars that fell out of the furnace. Or they wanted to run away. And maybe the reason why people wish on a shooting star is because they want them to return to the furnace. That’s a sentimental twist, isn’t it, Bokuto-san?</p>
<p>For Bokuto, the previous Akaashi Keiji was his shooting star; the one who couldn't stay by his side forever. Maybe he fell out of the furnace. Maybe he wanted to run away someplace else. A comet is so fleeting, gone in the blink of an eye. But Bokuto could miss it anyway.</p>
<p>However, there's something else in this equation. Someone else. Because, Bokuto realises, while the emptiness his first love carved out in his heart won't disappear, it can be healed. </p>
<p>And when he looks at Akaashi beside him, hands clasped in the middle of the pillows, he realises he's already started to mend it together for him. Maybe this is the person who stayed by his side in that furnace of stars all along.</p>
<p>When he thinks about it like that, Bokuto doesn’t feel homesick anymore.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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